The Parody of the Opera
by Serena Kenobi
Summary: A humorous version of POTO. Erik is a rapper, Carlotta screeches, Christine's annoyed, Raoul's a pansy, Meg's clueless, and Madame Giry uses a Nextel walkie talkie. 2004 moviebased. We're FINITO, people! The curtain is CLOSING! :D
1. Project one: Screeching Toad

The Parody of the Opera

By Serena Kenobi

Hello! This is my first real phanfic, a humorous parody. I hope you enjoy it. I also want to do a serious one, but I want to see how this goes first. There will be bashing of the characters... and expect some randomness. Just warning you!

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Disclaimer: I own the Phantom of the Opera. The DVD counts... right?

It was a normal day in the Opera Populaire… Carlotta was screeching, Reyer was whining, Piangi was cowering, Madame Giry was rolling her eyes, and Christine was covering her ears.

"This really isn't fair," she complained to Meg. "Why can't my guardian angel just get rid of that old cow?"

Meg gave her a strange look. "Guardian angel?"

"Well DUH!" Christine retorted, slapping her forehead, "My angel of music! If he's an angel of music then he'll realize that it's a SIN to keep this ratfink the prima donna!"

Meg shrugged and went to go stretch.

Raoul De Chagny was a happy man. He had a huge house, coddling parents, money to boot, and good looks! "If I do say so myself," he said slyly, walking into the Opera house.

"Ah, we're so glad you could join us, Le Vicompte!" Firmin said, clapping his hands.

"You will be joining us for the gala tonight, won't you?" Andre gushed.

Raoul nodded. "Indeed! I want everyone to see my good looks!" He tossed his head, golden locks waving in the air.

They found Monsieur LeFevre, who showed them around the Opera. The cast and smyphony were rehearsing Hannibal when they entered onto the stage.

"What's the meaning of this!" Reyer stormed, "We are rehearsing!" he stomped his foot and pouted.

"Monsieur Reyer, Madame Giry," LeFevre said in an apologetic tone, "I know there have been rumors of my retirement, and I can now tell you these were all true, and I would like to show you the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire. Monsieurs Firmin and Andre. "

There was a polite clapping. Most weren't really interested.

"Eh, managers come and go," Christine muttered.

"I'd like to see how long these two stay before the Phantom drives them to madness!" Meg chuckled, rubbing her hands together.

Christine raised an eyebrow. "Dude, you are obsessed with the Phantom, aren't you?"

"It comes and goes," her friend replied nonchalantly.

Meanwhile, Firmin was speaking. "And we'd like to introduce you to the Patron of the Populaire, the Vicompte de Chagny!"

There was more clapping for Raoul as he came, strutting onto the stage. "My parents and I are honored to support all the arts, especially the world renown Opera Populaire," he said in a dignified tone.

"This is Carlotta and Piangi," LeFevre introduced them in a bored voice. "They've been our leading lady and… man… for several seasons now."

Raoul nodded. "Very well," he answered, "But I think I'm keeping you from your rehearsal, so I'll just be leaving now."

"Please do," Mme. Giry muttered.

Raoul cast her an annoyed look before brushing right past Christine. She barely gave him a sideways glance.

"Christine, he's so handsome," Meg cooed.

Christine, however, shrugged. "Eh, he could be better," she retorted, "But he's to pansy-ish. He was a boy when he fetched my scarf, and he still looks like one now."

"You know him?" Meg gasped, eager to hear the details.

Christine nodded. "Yep. A long time ago, before Dad croaked. He was a complete self absorbed conceited boy, and it doesn't look like he's changed. No big deal." She abruptly walked away.

"Is he available then?" Meg called after her hopefully.

The managers had made Carlotta mad by staring at the dancing girls, so she was screaming at the top her lungs. "And I 'ate a my 'at!" she yelled, pointing to her headdress.

"You ate your hat?" Firmin asked, confused. She glared at him before bursting into crocodile tears.

"Please senora, sing for us!" Andre begged, getting on one knee. "Prima Donna, first lady of the stage, your devotees are their knees to–" Firmin abruptly socked him in the gut.

"You blasted fool, that song doesn't come until Act Five!" he hissed, yanking Andre off the floor.

"Three sir!" a stagehand called out.

"Three!" Firmin corrected himself, annoyed. "Wait, is it three?" he shrugged, neither knowing or caring.

"Please senora, sing for us, as a personal favor," Andre pleaded desperately.

Carlotta instantly brightened up. "If a my mangers command," she said, batting her eyelashes.

"If my diva commands," Reyer replied stiffly.

"Yes, I do," Carlotta snapped, and stormed off to the center stage. "Everybody be quiet!" she hollered.

Reyer sighed and said, "From the beginning of the aria then, please." He lifted his wand.

Carlotta began to sing. "Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said GOOOOD.. byeee!" The mangers, along with everyone else, cringed. "Remember me… once in a while, please promise me YOUUUUUU'LLL.. tryyy…"

Christine was staring up at the ceiling, muttering to herself, "Angel, now would be an EXCELLENT time for you to get your butt over here!..."

Suddenly, backdrop came crashing down on Carlotta, and she resorted to screeching. Nothing new.

"What's going on up there?" Firmin shouted angrily.

Meg was staring at the backdrop, transfixed. "It's the Phantom of the Opera," she trailed off. Mme. Giry walked over to a deserted part of the stage, glanced around her, and whisked out a Nextel walkie-talkie.

"This is Giry to OG, come in OG," she said in a low voice.

There was a slight pause before there was an answer on the other line. "OG to Giry, I read you," The Phantom replied. "Was the operation successful?"

"Yes, Operation Screeching Toad was successful," Mme Giry replied. "I repeat, Operation Screeching Toad was successful. Do you roger that?"

There was a crackling on the other end before she heard a muffled swearing.

"OG, are you all right?" she asked worriedly.

The Phantom growled. "I stubbed my toe on a door stop," he muttered into the walkie-talkie. "I'll be fine. Good work, Giry. Note will be arriving in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one… one and a half… one and three fourths… one and seven eighths… one and fifteen sixteenths…."

No note was coming down from the rafters, and Madame Giry was becoming very impatient. The Phantom's voice was growing more uncertain.

"One and four fifths… one and nineteen twentieths… one and– oh blast. I forgot the stupid note back in my other coat pocket. I should've made a few copies," he hissed angrily.

Mme Giry rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Never mind, I'll just write my own note," she replied into the Nextel. "I have some paper here with me. Tell me what you want it to say, and hurry up about it!"

The Phantom thought for a minute. "Let's see… 'Dear Mangers. Welcome to my Opera House. My salary is due, which is 20,000 francs a month. You will leave Box five empty for my use, courtesy of your friendly neighborhood Opera Ghost.'"

"That's fine," Mme Giry replied hurriedly, "Giry out." She quickly put the Nextel away and darted back onto the main stage, where Carlotta was leaving with her crew.

"Carlotta will be coming back, won't she?" Andre whined, fanning himself. Reyer shrugged helplessly.

Mme Giry hurried up to them, slightly panting. "Ihaveamessagefromtheoperaghost," she said in one breath. Everyone stared at her.

"Excuse me?" Firmin said, confused.

"Maybe she said that the Opera needs some new posts," Reyer guessed.

"Or that she needs a breath mint," Andre added randomly. Now everyone stared at him.

Mme Giry glared at him. "I _said_, I have a message from the Opera Ghost," she said more slowly.

Andre nervously chuckled. "Well, with that accent and how fast you were talking, you could have said anything," he replied.

"Shut up," Giry hissed. Andre closed his mouth.

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That's the first chapter. I NOW COMMAND YOU TO REVIEW! Oh boy, I'm sounding like Carlotta... I'll try a different tactic. 

Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training.


	2. Project two: Singing Angel

Thank you all so much for the reviews. I really appreciate it! Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

LilliesoftheValley: Hello there! Yes, I think she did too, she just hammed it up on purpose. Thanks for your review!

Madamoiselle La Lune: I'm so happy! Thanks for your review, hope you like this chapter!

Authoressinhiding: Hello to you too! I have a lot of familiar reviewers here... thanks so much for your review!

PhantomBecca: Thanks! I'm glad you caught the Monty Python, more will be coming up, I assure you! I loved the countdown, too, spur of the moment, really!

theforgottenone: I'm glad you liked it. Hope you like this chapter, too!

crazydbzfan87: Yeah... I never thought of it like that! That's a great comparison! thanks!

RavenRulzRF: YOU AGAIN! Honestly! Because you keep popping up in my reviews, I'm giving you... the award for the MFR! (Most Faithful Reviewer) Congrats! Thanks for reviewing my stories!

Yoshimi Minamino: You want to see Erik rap? Well, you will! But not in this chapter, sorry! In the chapter after this. Thanks!

naruchan: yeah, you do have a point there, lol! But Meg doesn't have anyone else... thanks for reviewing!

Luxis-lil: Thank you for reviewing! I'm glad you like my story, here's the next chapter!

Sera: Thanks for your review! I'm glad you think it's funny.

Cowgirl4Christ: I love your penname. I don't know who's worse, either... thanks for reviewing!

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Disclaimer: I own Phantom of the Opera coughs DVD and 2 disc soundtrack! coughs I also don't own anything from Monty Python or Finding Nemo.

**Chapter 2: Project: Singing Angel**

Mme Giry whisked out the note and continued, "He commands that you leave box five empty for his use, and reminds you that his salary of 20,000 francs a month. Courtesy of your friendly neighborhood Opera Ghost."

"You mean there are MORE opera ghosts other than this one?" Reyer whimpered.

Giry raised an eyebrow. "I would not doubt it," she finally replied.

Reyer promptly fainted dead away on the floor.

"Twenty thousand francs is outrageous!" Firmin boomed, "I will not be paying this trickster anything whatsoever!" He ripped up the note.

Giry shrugged. "Fine, but don't come whining to me when the Opera Ghost pays YOU a visit," she answered, sniffing. "He will not be lenient with you."

Andre paled. "Well, well, what are we going to do about tonight's gala?" he abruptly changed the subject. "There is no un… un…" he couldn't remember the word.

"Underneath?" Firmin suggested. Andre shook his head.

"Unn…." Andre stammered.

"Underwear?" Christine piped up. They gave her horrified looks. She blinked innocently.

"Under the table? Under the weather?" Giry guessed. Andre shook his head furiously.

"Understudy?" a voice from Giry's Nextel spoke up. Andre nodded and beamed.

"THAT'S THE ONE!" he shouted. "We have no understudy for La Carlotta, so who is going to be our lead singer?"

Giry slowly hid the Nextel behind her back and turned it off. She would have to give the Phantom… or Erik, a piece of her mind later. Surely he knew better than speaking in front of everyone!

Fortunately, no one noticed.

"We will have to cancel the performance tonight," Firmin fumed, "There is no other option!"

Reyer, who had been standing up, heard these words and fainted dead away again, falling to the floor. No one even gave him a sideways glance.

Meg was horrified at Firmin's words. "Surely you jest!" she cried, gasping in shock.

Firmin turned to glare at her. "I'm not, and don't call me Shirley," he snapped angrily. Meg looked down, embarrassed. Giry slapped Firmin upside his head, angry at him for shaming her daughter.

"You behave," she scolded. "Keep you hand to the level of your EYES!"

Firmin stared at her, frightened. "Bu.. bu…" he stammered.

"NO buts, Monsieur!" she hissed furiously, and suddenly shoved Christine in front of her. "Christine will be singing for you."

Christine let out a "HAAAALELUJAH!" and punched the air with her fist. But she wasn't looking where she was punching and ended up punching Reyer right in the face, sending him unconscious to the ground once again.

"Down once more to the dungeons of his black despair, down he plunges to the prison of his miiiiind!" Meg began to sing sadly, staring down at the knocked out Monsieur Reyer.

Everyone else simply ignored the entire charade and turned to Christine, who was beginning to sing.

"Andre, this is doing nothing for my nerves," Firmin muttered, fidgeting.

"Well then go take a vacation," Giry hissed, and slapped him upside his head again. Firmin winced and glared at her.

"Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said good-bye!" Christine sang, "Remember me, once in a while, please promise me you'll try!"

Everyone stared at her in complete shock, and she stopped, confused.

"Am I that bad?" she sniffed, tears coming to her eyes.

"Just keep singing!" Mme Giry encouraged, patting her on the back. "They're shocked because you're doing so well."

Meg took this opportunity to start her own little ditty. "Just keep singing, just keep singing, singing, singing, what do we do, we sing, sing, sing!"

"Meg…" Christine warned.

But her friend was on a roll. "HO ho ho ho ho ho, I love to sssiiing, when you WAAAAANT to sing–"

"MEG!" Christine shrieked wildly. Meg stopped in mid sentence and looked at her.

"What?" she asked innocently. Her mother glared at her pointedly. "Oh. Right," Meg said, looking down and reddening. "Carry on."

Christine let out an annoyed sigh. "Now I'm gonna have that stupid song stuck in my head!" she growled.

"Well, I think we've made quite a discovery with Miss Daae!" Andre said cheerfully, glancing at Firmin. His partner, however, just glared at him.

"That comes in scene Four, you imbecile!" he yelled, and punched him in the stomach again, sending Andre to the floor alongside Reyer.

"Three sir!" the stagehand called out.

"Three!" Firmin corrected himself.

"GET ON WITH IT!" the rest of the chorus shouted, growing very annoyed at the managers.

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This chapter wasn't that long, sorry! The next one will be longer. 

Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training.


	3. Project three: The Fopster

Thank you EVER so much for all the wonderful reviews. Hope you enjoy this chapter, which features... the FOPSTER!

LilliesoftheValley: HE HE HE! I love that part! Maybe I'll find somewhere to put that in...

Cowgirl4Christ: What's next? You'll see... I love this upcoming chapter...

Authoressinhiding: Why hello again! Lovely to hear from you. Yes! It WAS a POTC reference. Good job!

Yoshimi Minamino: Yes... I can't either! I believe there will be some of that in this chapter!

StarrySpark You caught it! Fantastic job! Thanks!

naruchan: No, Meg's not on crack. But Raoul's gonna do something really stupid in this one. Thanks!

RavenRulzRF: You're welcome! The managers are really STUPID! he he he...

Luxis-lil: Yeah, there's gonna be a lot more of that in here! It's kinda like my slogan...

Mary Anne Talbot: Well in that case... updating now!

The Magic Pickle Fairy: Everyone seems to love the Nextel. I like the modern gadgets, too!

Pip B: Hello there! Your review made me crack up... SEE THE MOVIE! It's the best!

Guardian. Ghost: Thank you so much for your review!

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Disclaimer: I own the Phantom of the Opera... (Special edition DVD and 2 Disc Soundtrack) But actually own the real thing? Sadly, no. 

**Chapter 3: Project: The Fopster **

It was opening night. Christine was singing, Meg was staring at the Vicompte, Raoul was looking at himself in the mirror, glancing periodically to the stage, Erik was listening, making a note to create his own rap rendition of the song, and Mme Giry was playing with her new PSP. She had a thing for gadgets. After a few minutes, she turned it off and slowly crept away to the stairs of Box five, hiding. 

Raoul glanced at the stage, did a double take, and gasped. "Can it be, can it be Christine?" he said, standing up.

And sure enough… it was. She was almost finished with her song. Raoul stood up, shouted, "BRAVA! TALLY HO!" and with that, he strode off to go backstage, singing, "Long ago, it seems so long ago, how young and innocent we were…" as he passed the curtain by the stairs, Mme Giry peeped out and whisked out her Nextel walkie-talkie.

"Giry to OG," she said quickly, "Warning, we have a fop alert on stairwell seventeen, I repeat, fop alert coming down stairwell seventeen."

There was a crackle before Erik replied. "OG to Giry, I roger that," he answered, "Checking fop's position…. He's making his way to the backstage. Do you copy?"

"Copy that," Giry affirmed. "He knows subject: Singing Angel, so be on the lookout if he tries to find her."

There was a muffled swearing and a loud noise on the other end.

"OG?" Giry asked. "Do you roger, OG?"

"I just banged my foot on another door stop," Erik growled, "There should be a law against those blasted things!"

Giry sighed. "Very well. Make a note of it when you write to the managers. Giry out." She shut her Nextel and proceeded to follow Raoul to the backstage.

Christine's song was now over, and she left after the performance, while everyone else was partying, to go to the small chapel in the Opera house. Meg knew exactly where she was going, so she followed her until she came to the chapel.

"Christine? Christine?" she called, entering the chapel, where Christine was lighting a candle for her father. "Where in the world have you been hiding?" she asked.

Christine turned to glare at her. "That's a dumb question," she snapped, "RIGHT here!"

Meg looked at her disdainfully. "It's been nine years and still you can't get over that your father's dead?"

"Old habits die hard," Christine shrugged. "I don't even remember him. Maybe he was a drunk, or he smoked. Who cares, anyways?"

"Christine! Is that any way to talk about your father like that?" Meg gasped, taken aback.

Christine looked at her innocently. "Well…" was all she could think of to say at the moment. "My angel takes better care of me than HE ever did!"

"Christine, are you actually so thick that you think you have an angel of music?" Meg said, shaking her head in disbelief. Then a thought dawned on her. "Hey, what if it's the Phantom!"

"Hey!" Christine mocked, "What if you're a complete idiot and obsessed with the Phantom!"

Meg glared at her. "It probably is," she retorted, "I bet he's fooling you into thinking that he's your angel of music. Honestly, who really believes in an angel of music? It's stupid!"

"I know he's here," Christine shot back angrily, "I can sense him…" she closed her eyes.

Meg rolled hers. "Oh, so now you not only have an angel of music, you have a Force sensitive angel of music, and he's teaching you the ways of the Force. Surely you're jesting about all this!"

Christine turned away, saying, "I'm not, and don't call me Shirley." She then flounced away back upstage. Meg sighed and followed her.

When they got up to the backstage, Christine was accompanied by Mme Giry to her dressing room, where Mme Giry slammed the doors in all the eager suitors' faces.

"GO AWAY AND DON'T COME BACK!" she shouted angrily, and then calming herself, turned to Christine. "You did very well my dear," She continued, and picked up the lone red rose that lay on the table. "He is pleased with you."

Christine took the rose and fiddled with the black ribbon. "Wait, who is pleased with me?" she asked before Mme Giry left.

"I think you know who," the elder lady replied mysteriously. Christine merely stared at her in confusion.

After Mme Giry left the room, Christine sat down and pondered the rose carefully. Meanwhile, Andre and Firmin were getting ready to introduce Raoul to Christine.

"Perhaps we could present her to you, dear Vicompte!" Andre gushed, taking a swig of champagne. Raoul shook his head.

"Gentlemen, this is one visit I'd prefer to make unaccompanied. Oh, thank you!" he said, taking Firmin's bouquet from him. Firmin was incensed.

"That fool stole my flowers!" he whined.

Raoul opened the door to Christine's dressing room, saying, "Little Lotte, let her mind wander. Little Lotte thought, 'Am I fonder of dolls or of goblins or shoes?'"

Christine turned to fix him with a fake smile. "'No,' Little Lotte said, 'Am I fonder of angels of music who stay by my side, or of annoying young dandelions who don't even notice me until I am the leading diva?'"

Raoul stared at her in disbelief. "Well I," he stammered, not expecting this reaction from her.

"Or maybe," Christine continued menacingly, "Little Lotte just wanted to pummel her 'old friend' Raoul because he didn't notice anyone else but his own prissy self." With that, she whisked around, flatly refusing to acknowledge him.

"But Christine, I had many important things to do," Raoul continued lamely, "I'm sorry for not noticing you…" she turned to him. "Flowers?" he squeaked.

She looked at them with disdain. "You didn't even have the class to get your own bouquet, did you?" she snapped, "And these are the cheap fake kind!" she threw the flowers across the room.

Behind the mirror, Erik cackled gleefully, rubbing his hands together. "This is going better than I had planned," he said to himself.

"Out!" Christine shouted, pushing Raoul out the door, "Out now!"

"Chrissy, surely you don't mean that–"

"I DO, AND DON'T CALL ME SHIRLEY! OR CHRISSY, FOR THAT MATTER!" she yelled, and kicked his foppish little butt out the door, slamming it in his face. She sighed, went behind the screen and changed her dress into her nightgown.

Everyone had left by this time, and the opera house lights began to turn off. Soon, the entire Populaire was darkened. As Christine came out from behind the screen, her candles went out. She stared around the room, unsure of what to make of the situation.

She turned to open the door, but a voice stopped her.

"Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory!" the angry voice of her angel sang, "Ignorant fool, this dumb young suitor, sharing in my triumph!"

Christine was eager to reply, "Angel I hear you, speak, I listen, stay by my side, guide me! Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me, enter at last, master!"

_FINALLY!_ Erik rejoiced, and instantly switched to his beloved rap. "Yo, if you want to, if you want to, look at your face in the mirrah, I'm there, oh I'm there inside! See why in da shadows, in da shadows, yo, I hide!" he couldn't help but do the hand signals, even though she couldn't see him.

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FINALLY RAPPING ERIK! Eee he he he! I love this chapter! 

Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training.


	4. Project four: Rapping Phantom

WHOA! 41 reviews for three chapters? You guys are awesome! I've never gotten so many reviews for this few chapters before! Thank you so much!

LilliesoftheValley: Thank you for your review! I'm glad you don't think it's dumb.

Cowgirl4Christ: Thank you so much for your review. You're right, Mme Giry SHOULD get an iPod!

The Magic Pickle Fairy: I'm glad you like Erik rapping. Also happy you liked the conversation with Christine and the Fopster! Thanks!

StarrySpark: Thank you so much! Yeah, Christine DID show the fop!

Tsukiyumi no Mikoto: Thank you for your review. Yeah, I kinda did copy the note thing.. everyone does seem to really like the Nextel!

Luxis-lil: Yes, I wonder why? Well, if I had directed, there would have been. Always can do another remake, right? Christine is not going to be all mushy mushy with the fop in this one... who LIKES him, anyways?

RavenRulzRF: Don't choke on your gum! So happy you like rapping Erik!

PhantomBecca: It didn't alert you? That stinks. The pouting thing is a totally awesome idea.. I think I'm going to add that in...

Chloe Rides a Land Shark: That's a great idea! Thanks for your review!

Yoshimi Minamino: Rapping Erik isa for you! Thanks for you review!

Pip B: You also like the Shirley thing? I've always loved that. I had a rather hard time with the rap (Writing your own renditions of songs isn't easy!), but I think I managed to pull it off! Wittle angel of moosic... that cracked me up!

Authoressinhiding: Yeah, Raoul makes me laugh, too. Thanks!

MetalMyersJason: You are correcta! Thanka you very mucha! Sorry, I'm just talking like the soup Nazi on Seinfeld.. NO SOUPA FOR YOU! Thank you!

phantomphan6230: Thank you! I'm so happy you like rapping Erik!

Mary Anne Talbot: Thank you very much! I'm glad you enjoyed it!

naruchan: Whups! Sorry the rapping scares you... but there's more of it in this chapter! Thanks for reviewing!

drunk.monkey: I certainly shall! Very happy you like my story.

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Disclaimer: I own Phantom of the Opera (cough) DVD and soundtrack. Does that count? As for the real thing... nope. 

**Chapter 4: Project: Rapping Phantom**

Christine looked at the mirror slowly, excited by the rap music. "Is that… rap?" she asked.

"Come to me, my angel of music…" Erik sang, slowly opening the mirror.

Raoul overheard something on the other side of the door. "Who is that in there!" he yelped.

"I am your angel of music…" Erik went on, "Come to me, angel of music…" He finally opened the mirror, and she saw him, leaning on the wall. With a very cute look, he pouted, sticking out his lower lip. Christine let out a girlish squeal and snatched his hand. Erik began to lead her through the mirror... unfortunately, he stubbed his toe on the wall. He let out stream of curses and quickly muffled them. Christine looked on in concern.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Fine, fine," he squeaked, masking the pain. (Ohh, that one hurt!)

She studied him as he led her through the passages and sighed dreamily.

"What?" he asked.

"I must really be in heaven," she remarked dreamily, "Because you look like an angel…" she stared at him. "When they said tall, dark, and handsome, I think they must have gotten it from you! You're HOT!"

He blushed. "Eh-hem, thank you," he stammered.

"What's your name? Your real one?" she asked.

"Erik," he immediately replied. "And no, I'm not your angel of music. Forgive me for…" He was stopped from saying anything further.

"Do you know what this means?" Christine asked excitedly, "DO YOU!" she began jumping up and down happily.

He stared at her. "Um… no?"

"Sexy Phantom!" she chirped ecstatically, "That means I can actually date you! This is ten times better than any angel of music!"

"Well I…" he trailed off, not expecting this from her.

"Hot Phantom!" Christine squealed, beaming at him. "This has got to be a dream! In sleep he sang to me," she began to sing, "In dreams he came, that voice, HOT voice, which calls to me, and speaks my name.. and do I dream again, for now I find, the HOT Phantom of the Opera is there… inside my mind!"

Erik looked at her and began to sing. "Sing once again with me, yo, sing with me, our, our, strange duet! My power over you, and you so know it's true, grows, grows, even strongah yet!" He was of course, rapping. "And though you turn from me, maybe gradually, to glance behind, the Phantom, yo, the Phantom's there, inside yo' mind!"

"Those who have seen your face," Christine continued, "Draw back in fear… I am the mask you wear…"

"It's me dey hear, yo!"

Then they both began to sing/ rap together: "Your/My spirit and my/yo' voice, in one combined/ in one combined, yo! The Phantom of the Opera is there/ Da Phantom's dere, yo! Inside my mind/Inside yo' mind!"

Christine then began to sing high notes as they were nearing the gates. The candles began to come up out of the water, the curtains drew back, and the gate began to open.

Suddenly, everything stopped. The curtains fell back, the gate stopped moving, and all the candles went off. The boat stopped working, too, and Erik sighed tiredly.

"I hate it when it does that," he groaned, "I overloaded a circuit. Hang on, I have to find the main power box. Be back in five." He jumped out of the boat and waded into a dark tunnel. Christine waited for a moment in partial darkness, twiddling her thumbs. She could wait for the... I mean HER HOT Phantom. Suddenly, everything went back on, and she smiled. But… then a few sparks went off, and it went black again. Her smile faded.

A few more sparks went off from Erik's direction, and she heard some muffled swearing.

"You okay back there?" she called hesitantly.

"Fine!" he shouted back, "Just got electrocuted, but other than that, my day has been JUST GREAT!"

Christine sighed and picked at the wood on the boat.

"BLAST IT ALL TO–" She heard Erik yell at the top of his lungs, punching the box at the same time, hard.

Everything suddenly came on again, and the gate continued to go up. Christine sighed, this time in relief, and looked around for Erik. He finally came back, a little frazzled, and definitely angry, but hot nonetheless. Erik got back into the boat, took up the pole, and calmed himself down.

"Aww," Christine pouted, "You're hot when you're angry."

Erik looked down at her. "Thank you my dear," he grinned, inwardly thinking, _On second thought, this night is turning out better than I planned._

"Shall we continue then?" he went on, as the gate went up. She nodded and went back to singing the high notes until they got to his lair. He jumped out easily, threw off his cloak, and stood looking around. "So, whaddaya think of my joint?" he asked.

Christine nodded, grinning. "It's.. how should I say it… DA BOMB, DUDE!" she replied eagerly.

* * *

Well, it looks like Erik's little power outage is all fixed now!

Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur. I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training.


	5. Project five: Leering Stagehand

Are you guys kidding me! Sixteen reviews for a chapter! You just made my day! I thank you guys SO SO SO SO SO much for reading and reviewing my story.

Authoressinhiding: Thanks for reviewing! You mean the rapping Erik? Well, I decided to take a risk and try it. Everyone liked it!

PhantomBecca: Well, it was a very good idea! Thanks so much for reviewing my story!

StarrySpark: Yeah, that was just a random idea that I'd thought would be funny. Glad you liked it! More Nextel in this chapter!

Cowgirl4Christ: Thank you! Hope you like the rapping version of 'Music of the Night'! Or should I say... Music of da Night?

Luxis-lil: I get my own word! Why thank you, I do appreciate it! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chloe Rides a Land Shark: Very funny review! Yeah, you do kinda sound like Randy!

phantomette of the opera: Thank you very much! Glad you liked the power outage thing.

Winnifred the Woebegone: He he he! Yeah, throwing Raoul off a cliff would be great! Or... the roof of the Opera house! I'm getting ideas, here... Thanks!

LilliesoftheValley: I'm not into swearing, either, that's why I don't put any of what he said actually in there. I know it was 'this brave young suitor', I just changed it to dumb, because Raoul isn't the brightest person on the planet. Thank you!

The Magic Pickle Fairy: I know what you mean, and I'm sure Erik appreciates your concern. Maybe he needs to call a power company... thanks!

Annie Lockwood: Thanks very much for reading my story!

phantomphan6230: SO happy you liked Erik rapping! There's more of that in here!

Mary Anne Talbot: Dear Reviewer, thank you! I am very glad that you liked the power outage. Thanks!

Super Tinfoil Man: It's the thought that counts, so thanks!

RavenRulzRF: You get your wish... more Nextel and toe stubbing in this chapter! thank you!

pip b: Thank you! I really appreciate it. Glad it made you laugh. (Both the movie and my story)

completely-obsessed: Hiya there, and thanks very much!

* * *

**Chapter five: Project: Leering Stagehand**

Disclaimer: If I owned Phantom of the Opera, why would I be making fanfics? I'd just redo the story so Chris ended up with Erik!

* * *

Erik smiled. "I'd hoped you would be pleased," he went on. Suddenly he began to stare at her and sing… Music of the Night. The rap version. 

"Yo nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation, darkness stirs and, and, wakes imagina-tion! Silently senses, abandon deir defen-ses! Oh yeah, yo, uh-huh! Slowly, gen-tly, night unfurls its splendah, yo! Grasp it, sennnse it, tremulous an' tenndah! Turn yo, turn yo face away! From da garish light 'a day! Turn yo' thoughts away from cold, unfeelin' light, an' listen, listen t' da music of da night!

"Shut yo eyes, and surrender to yo' darkest dreams, purge all thoughts of da life yo' knew before! Shut yo' eyes… let cha spirit start to soar! Oh yeah that's it… and you'll heah, as you've never heard before! Softly, def'ly, music's gonna caress yo, and! Heah it, feel it! Secretly possess yo! Open up yo' mind, let cha fantasies unwind! In this darkness that ya know, you cannot, cannot fight, da darkeness of da music, music of da night!" Of course he was doing all the hand signals and dancing, and Christine was really getting into it as well. It reminded her of a Jay-Z music video or something.

"… da music of da night!" Erik finished, taking her hand and showing her the cute little mannequin he'd stolen from a department store a few months ago.

Christine stared at it for a second before passing out dead away, whispering: "She's wearing a Ralph Lauren!" He was her favorite designer of all time. Erik caught her before she fell and brought her into the bedroom, where he put her on the bed and turned on the music monkey alarm clock to help her wake up in a couple of hours. Walking away, he left the room, but not before…

"Blasted door stops!" he hissed, after letting out a stream of curses. He pulled it off the floor and threw it into the lake. That made him feel much better.

---

Meg, meanwhile, had managed to find the keys and crept into Christine's darkened room. She put them down on a table and suddenly saw the mirror.. opened?

"Surely you jest," she said to herself nervously. Luckily there was no one to retort that. She walked over to the mirror, pulled it back, and stepped through, glancing through it on the other side. "It's double sided!" she gasped, "He must have been watching her!" the thought itself made her blush considerably. Continuing her oh so lovely stroll, she walked down the corridor until….

Her MOTHER snatched her and yanked her back to the real world! She was a bit ticked, but didn't say anything.

"YAAH!" Joseph Buquet roared, causing all the girls in the room to scream. "GNAAH! GARRRH!" he shouted, grinning toothily when the girls screamed after every time he made a sound. He pulled off his cloak, showing his very noticeable beer belly.

"Like yellow parchment is his skin.." he began menacingly, "A great black hole serves as the nose that…. Never grew!" The girls winced.

"You must be always on your guard… or he will catch you with his magical lasso!" Buquet ranted on, grinning evilly. Meg quickly ran to her bed, her mother following.

Mme Giry whisked out her Nextel quickly, talking fast.

"Giry to OG, I have a situation in the dormitories," she said hurriedly, "Subject: Leering Stagehand is bothering the girls again… and making horrible lies about you."

There was a pause before she heard the all too familiar loud noise of a bump and the sound of muffled swearing. Erik's very annoyed voice came on a second later.

"OG to Giry, can't you take care of the situation yourself?" he snapped irritably.

Giry thought something had gone wrong. "Did she reject you?" she asked pointedly.

"No, she's asleep," Erik confessed. "She was tired out from the performance. But we had a lovely time. Anyways, here's whatcha gotta do about Buquet. Get a Punjab lasso and strangle him. Do you copy?"

Mme Giry thought that was a brilliant idea. "OG, I copy," she replied. "Take care of Christine, okay?"

"Don't worry, I wi– BLAST!" there was the sudden banging of organ keys and more muffled cursing after that.

Giry sighed. "Let me guess, you accidentally stubbed your foot on the organ," she said.

"No, I just decided to hurt myself on purpose," Erik shot back irritably, "OG out." He shut off his Nextel.

Mme Giry walked over to Buquet, slapped him upside his head, and said in a menacing voice, "You'd better shut your trap or you'll find yourself the victim of a Punjab!" she threw a lasso around his neck and tightened it. Meg giggled.

* * *

Looks like Mme Giry has it out for Joseph! There's the Nextel again! It will be coming up soon again, with the help of some very nice reviews! 

Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training.


	6. Project six: Foolish Managers

WHOMP! (said authoress faints dead away on the ground from the shock of receiving the most reviews for one chapter that she's ever gotten) 19 reviews! You guys are the BEST bunch ever! Thank you so much! I hope you all enjoy this chapter, as I am having a blast writing it!

Oh yeah, I just had a funny idea. What if, in another fic, Erik and Raoul switched bodies! Can you imagine it? Raoul would be shrieking up a storm!

PhantomBecca: Good idea! Ralph Lauren... you'll see it if you go to J.C Penny's or Filene's. Glad you like the GNAAAH! More Nextel's coming up, maybe not in this chapter, but soon! Thanks!

completely-obsessed: Thank you very much!

LilliesoftheValley: I loved that part, too! So happy you enjoyed it! I don't like rap, either, I just dared to be different and tried something totally whack! I'll take it as a complement, though. Yes, AMEN TO THAT!

Memory from a Dream: So happy you like it! I know it's not like most of the usual parodies, but that's why I think you guys enjoy it! Thanks!

drunk.monkey: Thank you! I'm glad you all loved the rapping. I bet she really thought he was hot in the movie, she just didn't say it. SAY IT, CHRISTINE!

Cowgirl4Christ: I know, it's a shame. It could become a top-chart hit. Blast! Oh well. Here comes your favorite song, only tweaked a wee bit! Thank you!

StarrySpark: Very glad you love the Nextel! And Music of Da Night.. I really feel for Erik. Poor guy! Thanks!

Mary Anne Talbot: Thank you so much! I greatly appreciate your review.

Chloe Rides a Land Shark: Yes, poor Erik! They should ban those doorstops from existence...

The Magic Pickle Fairy: SO happy you love the rap version of MoDN! (Music of Da Night) A lot of other reviewers seem to share Erik's pain... I think we should start a petition to get rid of doorstops, don't you?

Authoressinhiding: Thank you so much! I'm happy you think I write good parodies.

Luxis-lil: Indeedee it does! So Music of Da Night is your new lullabye? That's awesome!

RavenRulzRF: Glad you like the toe stubbing... yes, Giry and Erik have it out for Buquet. But what about Christine?... We'll see! Yes, he's just a random stagehand. Or, he could be SIR LANCELOT OF THE CASTLE OF CAMELOT IN DISGUISE!

Samantha: Thank you so much!

christinedaae3242: Thank you very much! Yeah, Chris likes Ralph Lauren. Got expensive taste, doesn't she? Poor Erik will spend all his money buying clothes for her!

pip b: I'm so happy you thought that was funny! It was kinda a random idea that popped into my head...

who you calling girly: thank you! I'm glad you like it!

Virginie: I thank you! So happy you like this story... so far it's my most popular one!

naruchan: I'm sorry you didn't like Music of the Night, but I'm happy you liked the chapter. Thanks!

* * *

**Chapter six: Project: Foolish Managers**

Disclaimer: If I owned Phantom of the Opera, why would I be making fanfics? I'd just redo it so Chris ended up with Erik and Raoul's golden locks were chopped off!

* * *

Christine awoke to the sound of a music box. She opened her eyes, pulled the curtain up, and walked out into the open. She then saw Erik furiously composing lyrics for his opera, and slowly began walking towards him. Wondering what was behind the mask, she reached up and snatched it away. 

Erik gasped, banged his knee on the organ, let out a stream of muffled curses, and put a hand over his face. "What on earth did you do that for?" he shouted furiously. But Christine had already seen the face.

"It's so… so…" she stammered. He glared at her. "Show me again," she continued, crouching on the ground. Erik took his hand off. "Oh, my eyes!" Christine wailed, covering her face in pretended pain. Erik began to sniffle.

"Just kidding!" Christine hopped up cheerfully. She quickly pecked him on the cheek and gave him back his mask. "It's not bad at all, really, you're overreacting."

Erik gaped at her. "Oh… um… thanks…" was all he could muster. "Come, it's time to return. Those two fools who run my theatre will be missing you."

"They don't like me all that much, honestly," Christine muttered, looking at her fingernails.

Erik shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Chris," he said, patting her on the back, "It doesn't matter. Those two are complete idiots."

Christine cocked her head to one side. "Chris?" she echoed. "I like it…"

---

Firmin rushed into the Opera house… carrying a one pound coconut and a five ounce swallow in both hands. He had tried, unsuccessfully, to make the swallow carry the coconut. However, it had failed. A five ounce swallow could not carry a one pound coconut.

"It could grip it by the husk," Andre had protested earlier.

Firmin was downright mad. "Well it doesn't matter," he snapped to himself as he entered the large entry way. The servants took off his coat and hat and he hurried up the steps, fuming. "Spare me these unending trials," he ranted on, "Half your cast disappears, but the crowd still cheers… opera! To (bleep) with Gluke and Handel, have a scandal and you're sure to have a hit!"

Andre came in, whistling. "So, how'd it go?" he asked, motioning to the bird. All he got was a glare. "I take it didn't go well," he continued, clearing his throat. "(Bleepity bleep bleep)!" he shouted suddenly, shaking his fist in the air. Firmin stared at him.

"I got a message from the Opera ghost," Andre continued, reading it. "'Dear Andre, what a charming gala, Christine was in a word 'sublime'. What the (bleep) does that mean? Whoever heard of a word 'sublime'?"

Firmin sighed. "You are SUCH an idiot! It means 'inspiring'!"

Andre shrugged his shoulders and continued. "'We were hardly bereft'… there we go again! 'When Carlotta left, on that note, the diva's a disaster, must you cast her when she seasons past her prime?'" Andre then paused. "What does that mean?"

Firmin abruptly slapped him upside his head. "Shut up will you, SHUT UP!" he said, shaking his shoulders.

Andre sniffed and brushed himself off. "Well what does YOUR note say?" he inquired.

Firmin looked at his note. "'Dear Firmin, just a brief reminder, my salary has NOT. BEEN. PAID. Send it care of the ghost by return of post: P.T.O. No one likes a debtor so it's better if my orders are obeyed!'"

The two glared at each other. "Who would have the gall to send this?" They began.

"I have an idea!" Meg popped in, waving excitedly.

"You don't come in until part five!" Firmin bellowed, staring at her menacingly.

"Three sir!" the stagehand piped up.

Firmin shook his head. "Three! Anyways, where were we, Andre? Oh, yes…um…" the two nitwits scratched their heads.

"Wait," Andre said, looking at the back of his note, "There's a postscript."

Firmin examined his. "There's one on mine, too," he added, bringing out his spectacles.

"Where is she?" Raoul stormed in abruptly, "And why did you send me this creepy note?"

"We didn't send you any creepy note!" Andre protested. "See? It's signed by 'OG'. We're not 'O' and 'G'!"

Raoul shrugged. "Well, I just thought you might have an answer," he said, sticking his hands into his pockets. "So if you guys didn't send it, who did?"

Firmin looked at the letter. "There's also a postscript on this one, too…" he began, but was interrupted by Carlotta.

"WHERE ISA HE?" She screeched, storming in, in a ridiculously purple, pink, and red getup. Raoul gave her a disgusted glare.

"Eh, welcome back!" Andre said, rushing down to meet her.

She completely ignored him. "Your precious patron, where isa he?" she ranted on.

"What is it now?" Raoul asked tiredly. "Oh, and just for the record, your outfit totally clashes! Pink and red? What on earth were you thinking?" He slapped his forehead.

Carlotta glared at him. "You sent me thisa letter!" she accused. Raoul snatched it away and read it.

"'Carlotta. I have just a few words for you. One: You're dreadfully annoying. Two: You have no voice, you screech like a sick parrot. Three: Your dress style is pathetic and ridiculous. What on earth were you thinking when you wore that teal and vibrant orange peacock dress the other day?'" Raoul smirked.

"Seems I'm not the only one who thinks that," he snickered.

"Just geta ona with ita!" Carlotta yelled angrily.

Raoul shot her a glare. "Fine. 'Fourth: If you try to put Christine Daae out of her place, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur. Not that you have much imagination to begin with.'"

There was a tense silence for a moment.

"There's a postscript on this one, too," Raoul added. Carlotta screamed furiously.

* * *

So, what's on the postscript? EET EEZ A MYSSTERRY! Sorry, too much Carlotta on the brain. 

Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur. I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training.


	7. Project seven: Hot and Sexy Opera Ghost

Just three more reviews... can we make it to 100? I thank you all SO SO SO much for your supporting reviews, I didn't think this story would be as popular as it is. Hey, have any of you ever read 'The Phantom of Manhattan'?

PhantomBecca: Thank you so much! Since you've been begging, here's the next update! Glad you like the Monty stuff.

icyfingers13: Ooh, I get a Gerry plushie? Yes, NOW I HAVE A PURPOSE IN LIFE! Eh-hem. Sorry for the little outburst. Thank you for reviewing!

Erik's Muse: Your reviews cracked me up. Thanks!

AK-SilverGirl: Thank you very much! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Cowgirl4Christ: Hmm, well, I have some veeeery interesting plans up ahead! Thanks!

Mary Anne Talbot: What's the postscript? Hmm... wait and find out! I think you're all going to love it.

LilliesoftheValley: Thanks! I really appreciate it.

Jedijen66: Thank you for your reviews. Why can't Erik be a rapper? I think he'd look rather cool doing it...

cirquechinois: Thank you! I love the coconuts, too.

PhantomsPhangirl: Hey, awesome penname! Since I'm a HUGE Phan of the movie, I wouldn't tear it to bits and shreds and make it rotten and terribe. I'll take the cookie, I'm hungry! Much appreciated, and thank you!

StarrySpark: Yeah, they are. Don't fear, the NEXTEL WILL be back soon! More Carlotta coming up!

completly-obsessed: Thank you!

Pip: You will? Good idea!

RavenRulzRF: The postscripts are coming up, so never fear! Thank you!

Memory From a Dream: Well, that's the plan, mate! To make Raoul look really stupid! Maybe Chris will toss him off the roof. Thank you so much!

* * *

**Chapter seven: Project: Hot and Sexy Opera Ghost**

Disclaimer: If I owned Phantom of the Opera, why would I be making fanfics? I'd just redo it so Chris ended up with Erik and Raoul was tossed off the Opera House roof like a sack of potatos.

* * *

"Far too many notes for my taste," Andre said, taking one of Carlotta's arms. 

"And most of them about Christine," Firmin added, going to the other side of her. "All we've heard since we came is Miss Daae's name…"

SLAM! A random door shut as Mme Giry came in with Meg. "Miss Daae has returned," she announced.

"Is she okay? Can I see her? Does she need a massage? Is her hair sprayed?" Raoul jabbered on.

Mme Giry held up her hands. "Whoa, whoa, kill the motor, dude," she answered, "I have another note from the Opera Ghost."

"Let me see it!" the rest of them demanded. Firmin was the first to make it to the bottom of the stairs and grabbed the note, causing Mme Giry to roll her eyes.

"'Gentleman,'" Firmin read, "'I have now sent you a few good notes of the most amiable kind, saying how my theatre should be run.'"

"What does 'amiable' mean?" Andre piped up curiously. All he got was some very harsh glares, so he shut up quickly.

"Moving on," Firmin went on, "'I shall give you one… last… chance… or ELSE! Chris will be singing in the production of 'Il Muto', and Screeching Toad, otherwise known as Carlotta, or Cart, will be the pageboy. Cause the pageboy don't got no words, and the Countess does! Oh, the utter BRILLIANCE of my plan! So, have a good time, enjoy the show… and don't forget to read all the postscripts on all of the notes I've sent you. Toodle-oo! The Very HOT and SEXY OG.'" Firmin raised his eyebrows and turned the note over.

"It's the same postscript as on all the other ones," he continued. "It says: 'GET RID OF ALL THE BLASTED DOORSTOPS IN THE OPERA POPULAIRE!'"

Carlotta folded her arms. "This is all to help Christine!" She accused. "I bet Prissy boy herea sent thisa!"

"The idea! I don't mind doorstops! Can you believe it!" Raoul said, affronted.

"Yeah…" Mme Giry muttered under her breath.

Firmin and Andre tried desperately to keep Carlotta from leaving, but she was throwing such a big hissy fit that she didn't listen to a word they said and started to walk out of the doors.

"The man is mad!" Firmin objected.

"And we don't take orders!" Andre piped up. Then he frowned and turned to his partner. "Wait, _do_ we take orders?"

Firmin abruptly slapped him upside his head and rushed after a disappearing Carlotta and Piangi. "Senora, please wait!" he called. Andre rubbed his head.

"Was it something I said?" he wondered.

When Carlotta reached the doors, she opened them and was rushed at by lots of eager suitors… who were all waiting to take Christine on a date.

"Will you please give this to Miss Daae?" a young man asked, holding out a single rose. Before he could say another word, a tall man came up from behind, whacked him on the head, and snatched the rose. Carlotta stared at him. It was none other than Erik. He smirked at her and slipped away into the crowd.

"IT WASA HEEM!" she shrieked, "I SAW DA OPERA GHOST!" She slammed the doors, panting in fear.

Raoul sniffed. "Are you sure you saw what you saw?" he said suspiciously, getting in her face.

"YEES!" she replied.

"Positive?"

"Yes!"

"Absolutely certain?"

"Yes!"

"Completely sure of…" Raoul then passed out, hit on the back of the head by Mme Giry. Meg wailed and began to stroke his golden locks.

"Christine…" Raoul muttered. Meg glared and dropped his head on the cold, hard floor, miffed.

"OW!" Raoul shrieked, rubbing his now sore head. He looked at Meg, who stuck her tongue out at him and flounced away with her mother.

* * *

Eee he he he! Meg's not into Raoul anymore, and you found out what was ON DEE POSTSCREEPT! NOW ARE YOU ZATEEZFIED? 

... ACK! I'm talking like Carlotta again! Must refrain from talking, must refrain from talking...

Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur. I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training.


	8. Project eight: Lock Chewing Cows

(Authoress now faints yet again from shock) Good gravy! 124 reviews for only seven chapters! I can't believe it! THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH! This parody is turning out better than I had thought! Oh yeah, Happy Independence Day, everyone!

Authoressinhiding: That's okay, my computer was acting weird, too. Thank you!

Cowgirl4Christ: They are, aren't they? Don't worry, more rap will be coming up soon! Brought you by: PhantomRappers, Inc. That's a small company Erik recently started.

angelofmusicx0: Thank you so much! So happy you like the Nextel! It will be coming up soon! Brought to you by: GirysNextel, Inc. He he he!

mika: Thank you! I tried to make this funny, but not over-the-top stupid. You're in luck, cause Mme Giry has an iPod in this chapter!

PhantomBecca: Thank you, I really appreciate it. So happy you like the postscript! I'll try not to talk like Cart. She scares me!

Thank you! Glad you like it.

Infinite Inferno: You haven't seen the movie? You should! It's really awesome. I haven't read it, either. Good idea for the Geico thing! OG stands for Opera Ghost. Dark Angel will be updated shortly, never fear! Thank you!

Luxis-lil: I quite agree with you! Happy you like me talking like Carlotta... eet eez zometing zat I peeked up in Eetaly. JK!

RavenRulzRF: Indeed! Thank you!

Memory From a Dream: Nope, no would would either notice or care. WHO WOULD? (mutters) the fruitcake. Eh-hem. Thank you for reviewing!

Chloe Rides a Land Shark: I hope they do, too, for both their and Erik's sake.

Pip: I know, I know. That's why this one will be longer. Thank you!

MusicDeLovely: I'm very happy you like my story, thank you very much!

Mary Anne Talbot: Updating now! Thank you for reviewing. I hope they get rid of the doorstops, too..

Starlit tears: Thank you very much! I'm glad you like my story, so here's the next update!

Nyakai: Thank you! I do appreciate it. Yep, Erik decided to make an appearance in public. Very bold of him, don't you think?

StarrySpark: Your review cracked me up! I know, the doorstops are hurting our precious Erik. More Nextel on the way!

jhudora1115: Thank you very much.

I'llTryMyBestToBeGlindaTheGood: Seriously? I'm so happy! Thank you!

* * *

**Chapter eight: Project: Lock-chewing Cows  
**

Disclaimer: If I owned Phantom of the Opera, why would I be making fanfics? I'd just redo it so Chris ended up with Erik and Raoul was tossed off the roof. I also don't own Green Day or Nick Lachey.

* * *

The managers decided that Carlotta should have the lead role, and Christine should play the pageboy, ignoring Erik's wishes for the opposite. 

"Prrrima donna, first lady of the stage!" Andre sang, gallantly showing up in Carlotta's dressing room.

"Your devotees… are their knees to implore you…" Firmin added, giving her another little ugly pooch.

Carlotta soon joined their little duet, screeching at the top of her lungs. Madame Giry then made a mental note to get herself an iPod. Sure, a PSP and a Nextel were great, but an iPod would be awesome, too. Before she got the costumes together, she ordered it online.

"… THE WORLD IS AT YOUR FEET!" all the stage people sang, "THE NATION WAITS…"

Poor Christine covered her ears, wincing. "WILL THEY JUST SHUT UP?" she cried, "Erik? Oh ERIK!"

Erik strode into the room, looking a bit disheveled. Christine stared at him for a second.

"What happened to you?" she asked him, raising an eyebrow. He merely shrugged.

"Um…. It's a bit hard to explain," he began, fiddling with a Punjab. "You see… I've been doing a bit of a workout because a mouse was chasing me." He blushed.

Christine gaped. "You're afraid of mice?" she squawked. "But you live in a cellar!"

Erik pouted. "DO not!" he retorted sullenly, sticking out his lower lip.

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"DO too!"

"Do NOT!"

"Do TOO!"

"DO NOT!"

"Erik, would you please stop arguing and do me a quick favor?" Christine interrupted.

He blinked. "Like what?"

"I want you to get me a doggie," Christine quickly spoke up. "Carlotta has two, and I want one. Not a poodle, but like a German Shepard… or a Labrador retriever! Or a husky!"

Erik gaped. "Uh… I guess…" he trailed off.

"THANKS!" she cheeped, "Oh, and one other thing. I'm not gonna be the lead role in the play." She inwardly braced herself for his reaction, hoping he wouldn't freak out too bad. Unfortunately, it was not to be.

"WHAT!" he roared furiously, causing the rafters to shudder violently.

"Don't freak out, just do something about it!" Christine said, "Just not something too drastic. Like killing someone."

Erik pouted again. "Fine, I won't kill anyone." He then paused, opened his mouth, and…

"NO. You are NOT going to kill an-eee-one!"

"Oh please!"

"Not a chance, hotness. As much as I know how you like to use your precious little Punjab, I won't let you kill anyone." Christine thought for a minute, the wheels turning in her head. "Well, now that you mention it…" she went on.

---

It was the opening night of 'Il Muto.' Everyone was getting ready: Carlotta was warming up, making sure that she didn't fall over from the ten foot headdress she was wearing; the managers were well stocked on wine and biscuits; Raoul was wearing his finest outfit and had brought a compact mirror… just in case his golden locks needed smoothing; and Madame Giry was jammin' away on her new iPod. Listening to Green Day and Nick Lachey always got her moving.

Christine and Meg were waiting for the opening, and Erik was idly typing on a laptop. He, in fact, was going online to find out how to purchase a husky. While he was at it, he was going to get one for himself. And maybe a few other animals to keep him company.

However, his hopes of having a baby elephant were soon dashed when he discovered that they drank forty gallons of water a day and ate fifty bales of hay. Plan ruined. Oh well. At least he could still get a cow that could chew off Raoul's fine locks. Argh, scratch that. Cows needed lots of grass, something he didn't have. He then mentally made a note to buy a nice, large plot of land, in case he decided to make a house… or buy a few lock-chewing cows. Or maybe even that elephant he was wanting. Oh, the possibilities were endless!

* * *

Well, I can see Erik's hard at work. Coming up in the next chapter... Il Muto! Also, Nextel, iPod... and.. our special guest band playing live on the iPod... N'Sync! 

Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a diaster beyond your imagination will occur. I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training.


	9. Project nine: OGGTSM Disorder

**Ah, yes... I know I've been gone a long time. Computer issues and all. Hope you forgive me and like this chapter!! Enjoy!!**

**Thanks to all who reviewed! I'm so happy you guys like this story!! **

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**Chapter nine: Project: OGGTSM Disorder**

Disclaimer: If I owned POTO, why would I be making fanfics? I'd just redo it so Chris ended up with Erik, and Raoul ended up in an institution. What kind of institution? Fops For Life Association. Hey, that's catchy! Also don't own **N'Sync**'s song titled: **_Bye, Bye, Bye. _**Also don't own Coca-Cola. Hmm... if you've ever read any of my other fics, you'll know I do a lot of advertising for soda and car insurance companies. I'm not affiliated with any of them.

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Christine was pacing back and forth nervously, wondering what Erik was going to do. She hoped he did something soon, cause she needed the lead role. She had minor control issues.

"Need… leading… role…" she kept repeating monotonously.

Actually… MAJOR control issues.

Meg was whistling merrily, having no idea what was going on, but just enjoying it all. Yeah…

Mme Giry knew that something was going to happen, since Erik had an extremely bad temper, so she darted into a dark corner, whisking out her Nextel. "Giry to OG, OG, do you read me?" she hissed.

There was a slight crackling on the other end before an annoyed sigh came up. "OG to Giry, I read ya. What up, dawg?"

Mme Giry rolled her eyes. "You've been watching too much American Idol," she replied sourly.

"Hey, man, I can't help it if I find people singin' horribly off-key hilariously funny, yo," Erik whined in a sulky tone.

Mme Giry growled. "ARGH! Whatever! The point is, I know you're going to do something rash, like going off and killing someone, but please control your temper! That will only scare Christine away," she answered in irritation.

Erik made an exasperated noise. "DUDE! Chill!" he retorted, "I'm gonna go around killin' people jus' for the fun of it, kay dawg? SATISFIED!?"

"For the moment. Oh, and just for the record, DON'T CALL ME DAWG!" Mme Giry hissed in return, ending the link between them.

Anyways, finally the performance began, and Christine hopped onto the stage behind a curtain, accompanied by Carlotta. She made a face at the screeching diva and sat up on the bed, admiring the fine linens.

"You weel a neefer a be a leeding lady," Cart spat at her menacingly.

Christine narrowed her eyes back at her and quickly darted her gaze over to where Erik was deftly replacing Carlotta's mouth spray with a suspicious bottle of Coca-Cola. "Coca-cola?" she said, bewildered.

Cart spun around. "You say a sometheeng?" she sniffed.

Christine shook her head. "Huh?"

"I SAY, you say a sometheeng?"

"What?"

"I SAY!!! YOU SAY A SOMETHEENG!?" Cart shrieked, waving her fan around in the air.

"Pardon moi?"

Carlotta was fuming by this point. "NEEFER MEEND!" she yelled, snapping her fan shut and turning around.

"You watch your back," Chris muttered under breath, shooting Cart an evil look.

The diva whisked around. "What you say a theeze a time, mousey?" she asked angrily.

"Hm?"

Cart glared at her. "Are you a deef?" she snapped, pointing to her ears.

"Huh? What?" Chris asked innocently, pretending not to have heard her.

The diva didn't answer, but scrunched up her nose and stomped back to her place on stage. The curtain suddenly pulled back, and Christine feigned surprise as she drew back from Carlotta. Then Piangi came out onto the floor… dressed in what appeared to be fruity rainbow-type costume. Meg thought he looked like one of those colorful Care Bears.

"Hm, I should call him Sunshine from now on," she mused thoughtfully.

When 'Sunshine' pretended to pat Christine's butt, Erik tensed visibly. He then made another mental note to strangle the peachy man the next time he had the chance.

But meanwhile, Buquet was having some issues. He was constantly looking over his shoulder and around him, as if there were a real opera ghost. The other stagehands looked at him strangely as he fiddled nervously with his hands. In actual reality, he suffered from a severe case of OGGTSM (Opera Ghost Going To Strangle Me) disorder.

"Seraphim, away weeth theeze a pretense!" Carlotta fairly shrieked. Mme Giry winced at this and turned up her iPod to the highest volume, listening to one her favorite bands, N'Sync. "You cannot a speak a, but keess me in my husband's absense!" the diva continued.

"AND IT AIN'T NO LIE, BABY BYE, BYE, BYE!" a sudden very loud song blasted onstage, causing everyone to jump ten feet out of their seats.

"I say, my dear," an old Duke said to his girlfriend of thirty-seven years, "Do you think they're going mod?"

His girlfriend shrugged, double chins waggling. "Maybe they've decided to spruce up the music, Bart," she guessed.

Mme Giry had forgotten to disconnect her other iPod from the speaker system she had Erik put in a few weeks ago, and now it was suddenly playing onstage and into the now confused opera house. The audience was whispering nervously, and Raoul was covering his delicate ears, shouting, "TURN IT OFF, TURN IT OFF!"

Cart was puzzled, wondering why everyone was acting so oddly. She couldn't hear a thing, being deaf from the large headdress on her head.

Erik was laughing his head off, falling to the floor and clutching his stomach, guffawing loudly. He thought it was the most hilarious thing he'd ever seen in his life.

Christine was actually liking the music, and was starting to do some hip-hop dancing. Mme Giry quickly turned it off, much to Chris's dismay. "Aw, dat ain't cool, yo," she complained, sounding a lot like Erik.

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I really loved writing that chapter. That's all I have to say. Sorry for taking so long, wasn't my fault!

Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training.


	10. Project ten: Not Quite Dead Stagehand

**Everyone! This will be my last update before Christmas!! I know everyone's probably on break, but that's okay! Have a Merry Christmas! **

**Random idea of the day: I thought that the institution: "Fops For Life Association" was very catchy. A fic about Raoul in an association with all fops is very amusing. I dont' know if I'll ever write about it, but someone else might. You just have to ask me for permission, first, and if I let you use the idea, I'd like the credit. Anyways, it's just a silly random idea, but sounds funny. **

** Thanks to all who reviewed!! Longer chapter!!**

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**Chapter Ten: Project: Not Quite Dead Stagehand **

Disclaimer: If I owned POTO, why would I be writing fanfics? I'd just redo it so Chris ended up with Erik, and Raoul was... well, DEAD! Mwa ha ha... I also don't own Monty Python or Coca-Cola. Or the Verizon wireless commercial. Or is it Sprint? Well, if it is, I don't own that commercial, either.

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Carlotta glared at Christine. "Your part is silent, leetle toad!" she hissed furiously before storming off and getting her mouth spray.

"Chris ain't no toad, woman!" Erik shouted down from the ceiling, staring down coldly at the diva.

Everyone became silent, trying to figure out what the heck was going on.

"I want to go," a duchess complained, standing up. Her husband quickly pulled her back down, hissing, "Sit down! There may be a dinner afterwards."

Carlotta was oblivious to the whole affair as her frightened maid accidentally shook the Coke bottle and began to twist the cap open.

"DOOON'T!!" Meg and Christine shrieked, lunging simultaneously for the bottle.

KA-SPRITZ! The bottle whooshed open, and a ton of nasty smelling (and tasting) Coca-Cola came spraying out right into Carlotta's face and mouth, appearing to be a mini Old Faithful geyser.

Cart blinked, the Coke dripping down her face. The maid paled, slowly stepping back cautiously, ready for another temper tantrum. Meg and Christine were trying to control their laughter.

"WHY YOU ALWAYS SPRAY IT A ON MY A CHIN!!?" Carlotta screamed, growing red in the face.

The maid quickly grabbed a cloth and began to wipe her off furiously. "I'm sorry, mademoiselle, really, I am," she began to apologize.

Cart swished off, trying to pull herself together. She hurried back onstage, and Reyer started the music again. The diva then resumed her horrible screeching. "You cannot a speak a, but kees me in my… QUAAACK!"

The audience and cast members stared, and Chris began to snicker. Then Meg followed. Soon, everyone was laughing, except for Raoul, who was too busy straightening his outfit.

Cart gulped and tried again. "Pooor fool he makes me laugh, a ha ha ha ha! Ah ha QUAAACK! QUAAAACK!" Screaming, she bolted offstage, while everyone was giggling loudly.

Erik, however, was exceedingly glum. "It was supposed to make her sound like an ELEPHANT!" he hollered, stomping his foot on the ground.

The managers quickly ran onto the stage and began spluttering out nonsense. "Uh… um… the b-ballet from act five!" Andre nervously ordered Reyer, who stared at him, confused.

"THREE, SIR!" a random stagehand called out, peeping out from behind the curtain.

"Three!" Firmin corrected, glaring daggers at Andre, who shrugged sheepishly.

Christine was rushed backstage to change her outfit, smirking happily. When she reached her dressing room, Mme Giry shut the door and began helping her to change into the dress.

"Do I have to wear that awful headdress?" Christine whined, putting her hands delicately on her hips and eying the thing distastefully.

Mme Giry opened her mouth, ready to say: 'Yes, so stop your complaining or I'll send you to live the gypsies, you brat!' but was interrupted by a familiar bleeping of the Nextel. "Giry to OG, what's up?" she asked, ignoring Christine's bewildered look.

"OG to Giry, Subject: Leering Stagehand is beginning to follow me. I can't shake him! Frankly, I'm quite annoyed with his – AAAAACK! STUPID TERRIBLE EVIL PSYCHOPATHIC ABYSMAL BLOODY BLASTED DOORSTOPS!! I THOUGHT THERE WERE GOTTEN RID OF, BUT NOOOOOO! NO ONE listens to little old me! I'm only the bloody Phantom of the Opera!! Those (bleepity) managers didn't obey my orders!"

"Are you finished now?" Mme Giry questioned calmly.

Christine's mouth hung agape like a freshly hooked fish.

"Yeah," Erik returned sulkily, "I'm done."

"Good," Giry replied, "Because I have Subject: Singing Angel with me right now, and she's been listening to every word that's come out of your mouth ever since this conversation began."

Silence. Christine could almost hear the crickets chirping.

"Oh. Oh man… I was on speaker? Oh no…" Erik's voice deflated like a popped balloon.

Mme Giry rolled her eyes. "So, you wanna get rid of this Buquet guy, right?"

"Yeah," Erik replied. "Uh, hey, honey!" he called out to Christine.

Christine grabbed the Nextel from Giry, much to the older woman's annoyance. "Hey, hotness! How's life?"

"Better, now dat I'm talkin' to the most beautiful girl in da world," Erik answered smoothly.

"Aw, that's sweet," she giggled. Mme Giry tapped her foot in impatience, wanting her Nextel back.

"It's just nice to know that I'm da only man in yo' life," Erik continued on, grinning. He waited for a reply. There was none. "Hon? Chris? Christine?"

Christine had indeed replied, but the call was dropped. "Hey, what's wrong with this thing?" she complained, banging it on a desk. Mme Giry whisked it away from her.

"That's my Nextel cell phone, girl!" she hissed, "The call must have been dropped. I knew I shoulda switched to Verizon… but anyways," she picked up her walkie-talkie, "I'll just use this from now on. I must have forgotten to turn it on, and Erik picked up on my cell phone instead of the walkie-talkie. I may have to switch to a different frequency."

Chris blinked.

* * *

Meanwhile, Erik was getting worried. "I am da only man in yo' life, right?" he was panicking. "Hello? Christine? Christine?" Growing angry, he picked up a random doorstop (the fifth one he'd found in the last three minutes) and hurled it in a direction.

BONK!

"UUFF!" The doorstop had hid Buquet, and the pot-bellied stagehand toppled off the catwalk, dropping to the floor, apparently dead.

Everyone screamed, backing away from the body. Erik groaned and slapped a hand over his eyes. Why did this always happen to him? He grabbed his laptop and hurried to one of his secret spots, ordering a husky for himself and Christine, along with some cows, a few Siberian tigers, and some camels from Persia. The elephant was on back order from Africa, and wouldn't come for another few weeks. But hey, that would give him plenty of time to find a big piece of land.

Christine and Mme Giry had heard the commotion outside and hurried out to find Buquet's body on the stage, the girls screaming, the audience whispering, and the managers coming up with pathetic excuses.

"It was the Phantom!" one of the girls screamed, trembling. The others nodded and agreed with her.

Reyer promptly fainted dead away, and the musicians stared at him.

Mme Giry didn't care that Buquet had died, since she'd never liked him, anyways, so she marched onstage. "Everyone!" she cried, and everybody stopped to listen to her. "This is supposed to be a happy occasion! Come now! Let's not argue and bicker about who killed who. We are here today to witness the wonderful opera of 'Il Muto'! Sadly, one of the stagehands, Joseph Buquet, has had an ACCIDENT," she glared pointedly at the ballet girls, "and has fallen to his death. But I don't want to think of it as losing a stagehand… so much as… gained a new diva!"

The audience politely clapped at that, and Christine bowed, grinning.

"For, since the tragic death of Buquet…" Giry began.

Meg sauntered up to the body and felt for a pulse. "He's not quite dead!" She announced.

Giry sighed in irritation. "Since the near fatal wounding of Buquet…" she continued.

"He's getting better!" Meg interrupted, seeing the man's eyes slowly open.

No one noticed Erik creep up behind Meg and Buquet except for Mme Giry and Christine, who watched in fascinated anticipation.

"For, since Buquet, when he seemed to recover, suddenly felt the icy hand of death upon him!" Mme Giry declared, and Erik whacked Buquet on the back of the head, causing the stagehand to slump over.

"He's dead!" Meg called out.

Erik quickly slinked away and hurried down to his lair, NOT CELLAR, and finish the new tune he'd been working on. "No one woul' listen, yo! No one bu' her, yo, hear' as da ou'cast heahs, yo!" he began to softly rap. Thinking of how catchy a tune it would be, he decided to finish it once he got back down to his home. Oh, wouldn't Chris be pleased!

Raoul had run downstairs from Box Five, and leapt… or tripped… over to Christine, who was still staring at the spot where Erik had been. "Christine, we're not safe here!" he whimpered pitifully, and dragged her all the way up to the roof, which overlooked Paris.

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Very fun! Have a Merry and Phantastic Christmas, everyone!

**Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training. **


	11. Project eleven: CSI Chris

**I'm back! Sorry, too much Terminator on the brain. Anyways, here is the next chapter, and I hope you all like it. I don't think it's as funny as the other ones, as it's more of a transitional chapter, but that's for you to decide. So don't forget to review!!

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Chapter eleven: Project: CSI Chris**

Disclaimer: If I owned Phantom, why would I be writing phanfics? Also don't own CSI or anything else that's not mine.

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Christine, on the other hand, was very confused. "Why have you brought me here?" she sang, bewildered.

"We can't go back there!" Raoul sniffled.

She glared at him forcefully. "We MUST return!" she sang back firmly.

"He'll kill me!" he wailed, dropping to the ground. "His eyes will find us there… those eyes that burn… if he has to kill a thousand men…"

Christine blinked. "You are…" she began, "One of the WUSSIEST men I've ever come in contact with!" she snapped. "Besides, you've never even MET him, for crying out loud! How do you know what he looks like!"

Raoul stopped mid-wail, thinking about that. "Well… erm…" he reddened considerably. "Isn't that what you said?" he squeaked, now more afraid of her than of the so-called Phantom.

"NO!" she yelled, holding the rose tightly, the snow lightly whirling around. "I never told you anything about him! You're completely overreacting about this whole situation!"

"But–"

"Ya MAKE ME SICK!"

Raoul stood up and wiped his nose. "But, Chrissy, he killed a man!" he protested, moving towards her.

"I oughtta slug you," Christine retorted. "Or throw you off the roof. Buquet obviously tripped and fell of the catwalk."

"How would you know?" Raoul demanded. "What are you, some kinda expert on this?"

"In Fact, I've been watching CSI for a few years and picked some helpful stuff up," she admitted haughtily. "And who cares if, hypothetically, the Phantom DID kill him? No one liked the guy. I mean, what kind of a name is Buquet, anyways? He could be a florist!"

Raoul wrinkled his nose and replied, "Well… I'll still make sure to tell the managers about this."

"You do that."

"Christine… Christine…" Raoul suddenly crept up behind her.

She shot him an evil glare. "What?"

He grinned smugly and began to sing: "No more talk of darkness, forget these wide-eyed fears…" he started to sing, randomly changing the subject.

"Oh SHUT UP!" she shouted. "I don't want your attentions, you stuffed up fruitcake. I already have a boyfriend!"

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime," Raoul went on, completely ignoring her. "Say the word and I will follow you…"

Christine glowered and returned, "Say you'll shut up and I will not hurt you… promise me that you will leave right now… that's what I'm telling you!"

Raoul was becoming slightly nervous. "Surely you don't mean that!" he squawked.

"I do, and don't. Call. Me. Shirley!" she responded furiously, baring her teeth. Raoul stared at her in horror.

"Look at you," he said, "The Phantom's turned you into some kind of monster! Or a vampire! ACK! He's sucked your blood, and now you're coming to suck mine! GET AWAY!!" he ran back into the Opera house, screaming at the top of his lungs.

Christine paused for a moment before bursting out into hysterical laughter. "That was… the most hilarious thing… I've ever seen… in my entire life!" she giggled.

Erik had been watching the whole time and now came out from behind the statue, grinning. "Maybe we should get some fake pointy teeth and scare him at night," he broke in, coming up next to her.

Christine turned around and wiped her eyes. "I guess you heard everything," she said. "Raoul wanted me to marry him. And he also thinks you've put me under some spell. He's very strange."

Erik chuckled. "Well, I'm just glad that you didn't accept his advances, Chris," he replied fondly. "I don't know what I would've done."

"You probably would've tried to kill him," Christine answered thoughtfully. "But what we really need are some lock-chewing cows."

"EUREKA!" Erik shouted, swinging her around. She stared at him, confused.

"You okay, hotness?" she asked, worried.

He nodded and replied, "Yes! Perfect! Just wonderful! You said that we should get some cows… great minds think alike, Chris! I've just ordered some online!"

Christine beamed and said, "Did you get me a husky, too?" When he nodded, she squealed happily and hugged him. "You da MAN, hot Phantom!" she chirped. Sighing, she pulled apart from him and glanced back to the Opera house. " I gotta go. Come with me, Erik?"

"Chris, yo, I love yo'!" he rapped back, holding her hand happily.

The two went back, where Erik kissed her lightly and left to go back to his lair. Then, when she headed back to her dressing room, she found Raoul, who had seemingly managed to gather up some courage and ask her to stay at his house – to get away from the 'Phantom Vampire' lurking in the Opera house.

"Raoul, I can't," Christine protested stiffly. "I belong here."

"It seems like you know a lot about this Phantom," Raoul shot back warily, "Tell me where he lives!"

Christine was at her wit's end. "Fine, I'll stay with you, just promise to shut up!" she shrieked at the top of her lungs. Raoul grinned triumphantly as she slammed her door, ready to begin her packing.

"ERIK! OH ERIK!" she yelled, throwing the mirror open. There she found him, gazing at her forlornly.

"You're going with him!" he said in disbelief. "But I thought…"

Christine leaned in, scheming.

"I have an idea," she began, "I stay with Raoul, or else he's going to think that something's up. Then, after a few months at the Masquerade ball, we go back to normal! Blah, blah, blah, you do your opera, boom, we sing the song, and bang! We're happily together, living in a large mansion with lots of cows, camels, and any other animals that we decide to buy. Sound good?"

Erik nodded. "Yeah, but can I see you before that? Like, during when you're with the fopster?"

"Sure thing, hotness!" Christine replied. "Well, I gotta go, see ya later!" she kissed him and turned to leave.

Erik stared after her with a stupid grin on his face. He slowly turned around and let out a familiar stream of muffled curses as he banged his foot on a loose stone.

"BLOODY STONES!" he hollered, fuming.

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For the next three months, Christine spent about three eighths of her time in Raoul's house. The other five eighths she was with Erik, going on romantic carriage rides, moonlight picnics, and midnight serenades. Raoul, being the stupid fop like he was, didn't suspect a thing. He had, in fact, thought that Christine was no longer a dreaded vampire and was getting ready to ask her to marry him.

"Christine, Christine, where art thou?" he sang, flouncing into her room. Christine looked up from her book and glared at him.

"What is it now?" she snapped, annoyed.

Raoul, being the stupid fop like he was, didn't notice her tone and ranted on. "Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife, oh radiant Christine? Your hair shines like a thousand pineapples, your eyes, the color of freshly ground mulch, your face, the shape of a watermelon, your ears, the shapes of two delicate peaches, your hands, the–"

WHAP! Christine hurled her book at him, furious. It hit Raoul with an extreme force and sent him to the ground, passed out.

"Good riddance," she muttered in irritation.

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That's it for this chapter, you know the drill!

Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training.


	12. Project twelve: Da Cool Shirt

**Once again, here I am!! I got some urgent reviews that wished me to update, so I shall do that immediately!! Glad everyone liked the last chapter... can we get to 200 reviews!! I believe it is possible!! And yes, this will deviate slightly from the movie, as it's EC. Hope no one minds.

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**Chapter twelve: Project: Da Cool Shirt**

Disclaimer: If I owned Phantom, why would be writing fanfics? I'd just redo it so Chris ended up with Erik. Also don't own any other rappers or people, or things that don't belong to me. Also don't own the song "Gaston" from Beauty and the Beast. It belongs to Disney. I just changed it to 'Raoul' instead of Gaston.

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It was then that Erik showed up for her nightly ride.

"You ready to… what happened to the fruitcake?" he questioned, staring down at him. Christine shrugged.

"He proposed, and I threw my book at him. He was trying to complement me but ended up saying things that were NOT complementing!"

Erik looked at her. "Like what?"

"Well, he said that my head was the shape of a watermelon," she began. His mouth hung open. "And my eyes the color of freshly ground mulch…" he made a noise at the bottom of his throat. "And my ears, the shapes of peaches. And my hair shines like pineapples!"

"Pineapples?" Erik said, bewildered. "I didn't know that pineapples shone."

"Neither did I," she huffed. "Let's just get out of here before he wakes up. I need some new clothes."

Erik studied her for a second. "But you already have some new clothes," he finally said.

"But NOT Ralph Lauren!" she yelled, striding out of the room, "Come on, let's go shopping!"

Erik had a bad feeling about this. "Why do I get the feeling that I'm going to be spending a sizable amount of my money?" he demanded, following her out.

"Because you are," she retorted, getting into the carriage. Erik sighed but did as she asked.

"Say you'll shop with me each waking moment…" Christine began to sing, "Buy me lots of Ralph Lauren clothes…"

Erik caught on and joined her. "Share each day with me, each night, each morning…"

"Say you love me…"

"You know I do!"

"Shop with me, that's all I ask of you!" Their lips met in a passionate kiss.

* * *

And so they took a quick boat trip to New York and spent the next few hours shopping in a Ralph Lauren store. Erik also bought Mme Giry an Xbox and himself an 'I Love NY' T-shirt, which he dubbed: Da Cool Shirt. It got him into the rapping mood again, and he and Christine jammed along to some rap music on the boat ride home.

"Yo, Chris," Erik said as they rode along in a carriage back to the Fop Mansion, "I made up my own cool song. Wanna heah?"

Christine grinned and nodded. "Totally!"

Erik cleared his throat. "No one woul' listen, yo! No one but her, yo, hear' as da outcast heahs, yo!" Chrisine leaned back and gazed at him dreamily. "Shamed inta solitude, uh-huh, shunned by da multitude, dat's right, no one woul' listen, yo! I alone could heah dat music..." As he continued and finally finished the song, Christine beamed and clapped.

"Oh, Erik," she sighed, "That was the most romantic thing I've ever heard."

Erik caught her hand in his and pressed a kiss to it. "Only for yo, Chris," he winked. She giggled in return.

* * *

Raoul, of course, was too stupid to realize that Christine had been missing.

"Hello, my darling," he said gaily, waltzing into the room the next morning, "I have an invitation for a masquerade."

"Well that's jolly good for you," she muttered, twisting a strand of hair around her finger as she read a book that Erik had given her.

"Will you not go with me?"

Christine slowly looked up. "Give me one good reason why I should."

"Because I'm handsome, of course."

"… THAT'S the good reason? In that case, no way!" She stood up and flounced past him.

Raoul blinked. "But, I'm handsome!"

"So?"

"Don't you get it? I'm handsome!"

"I don't give a flying rip!"

"But!! I'm handsome!"

"I DON'T CARE!"

"BUT I'M HANDSOME!"

"I. DO. NOT. CAAAAARREEE!" Christine screamed at the top of her lungs, glaring daggers at his cowering form.

Raoul eyed her, wondering if she was turning back into a vampire. "But I'm handsome," he whispered pitifully.

"And. I. Don't. Care," she hissed, striding up the stairs to pick out a good gown for the masque. "I'll go, but not with you." She flounced off and slammed the door behind her.

Raoul watched her leave, rubbing his head. What had gotten into her? Then it hit him. He needed to get her a nice, big, gaudy ring to cheer her up! It was the Phantom Vampire's fault, he was sure of it! _He_ was the one dampening his poor Chrissy's spirits.

"Well, I'm off!" he said, putting on his top hat with a flourish. Suddenly, a few servants came in, all dancing along with the music and singing.

"Nooooo one's slick like Raoul, no one's quick like Raoul! No one's neck as incredibly thick as Raoul's!" they sang. "For there's no one in town half as manly… perfect, a pure paragon! You can ask any Tom, Dick, or Stanley! And they'd tell you whose team they prefer to be YOOON!!"

Raoul was feeling much better already.

"No one's been like Raoul, a king-pin like Raoul! No one's got a swell cleft in his chin like Raoul!"

"As a specimen, yes, I'm intimidating," Raoul sang proudly, trying to look bulked up but failing miserably (he had always been a gangly boy).

"MY WHAT A GUY… RAAAOUULL!" the servants sang as he swaggered out the door.

* * *

It was all going according to plan. Christine and Erik had already thought of everything. Bing, Chris would show up with Raoul, just for show, Bang, Erik would show up and give the managers the script, and Boom, he would leave and she would head back so they could celebrate at his LAIR, NOT CELLAR!!

As you can see, they had planned the entire thing. But when Raoul gave her the ugly ring, she had to wear it. His annoying mother made her.

So, here she was, in a beautiful dress… with an ugly ring around her neck. Accompanied by the stupidest fruitcake ever to walk the earth thus far. She hoped Erik would show up soon.

Everyone sang the masquerade song, which she enjoyed, and pretended to happily dance with Raoul, who looked ridiculous in his soldier's outfit. He'd never held a sword or gun in his life. The mere sight of blood made him faint.

"Darling, why aren't you wearing the ring on your hand?" Raoul said through gritted teeth.

Christine shrugged innocently. "Oh, I just thought it would look better on my neck," she replied.

"But it was an engagement ring!" he protested.

"Was it?" she said airily, "I didn't notice."

* * *

**Enough outta that chapster. Everyone knows what to do now!! **

**Dear readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training. **


	13. Project thirteen: Easter Bunny On Parade

**Ah, thank you for your fantastic reviews!! I very much appreciate them! This chapter is a lot longer than usual, as I just had a writing breakthrough. Hope you enjoy!**

**CONGRATS! To my 200th reviewer, who is... dun dun dun dun! LostBluePhantom! Give yourself a pat on the back. Everyone else, thank you! Can we make it to 300? I believe eet eez pozeeble! Oh boy, too much Carlotta... **

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**Chapter thirteen: Project: Easter Bunny On Parade**

Disclaimer: If I owned Phantom, it wouldn't be so depressing. Erik would have gone with Christine, and Raoul would have been put in the 'Fops For Life Association.' Also don't own Romeo and Juliet. Belongs to the greatest writer of all time, Shakespeare. Or CSI. Or Monty Python and the Holy Grail. That movie ROCKS! Or Nextel. Or Ben and Jerry's Phish Food ice cream. Or anything that isn't mine. I just make the plot. THAT'S mine.

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**DUN!** Dun dun dun dun DUN!!! The Phantom music began to play as the room became dark, and a spotlight shone on an incredibly hot and sexy Opera Ghost, who was grinning as he looked around at the frightened people.

Step by step, he came down, giving a wink at Christine, who snickered and tried to hide a smirk. "Why ya so silent, goo' messeiuhs?" he began menacingly. "Did cha think tha' I 'ad lef' yo all fo' good! Yo, 'ave yo' missed me, goo' messieuhs?" he rapped, doing the hand motions again. "I 'ave written yo' an opera! Fondest greetins' to ya all… I gotta few instructions, so listn' and listn' good!" He turned to Carlotta.

Cart paled visibly and gulped, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Cart must be taught to act, yo'," Erik continued, "Not jus' a trick of sruttin' round da stage!" When Sunshine moved forward, he thrust his sword at his stomach, making the peachy man halt. "Our Don Juan must lose some weight, man… it just ain't healthy for a dude of Piangi's age."

Piangi glared at him. "I am not fat!" he protested.

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Then how come ya can't fit into yo' old pants that are a size 32?" he asked casually, "What size are ya now, an extra, extra, EXTRA large? Just chill out, man." He then turned to the managers.

"And my managers must learn that deir place is in an office, not da arts, dawg!" he went on, and then turned to Chris, who beamed brightly at him. "As for our star, Miss Chris Daee… I don't doubt she'll do her best, it's true, yo, dat her voice is cool, she knows, bu' shoul' she wish to get bettah, she has much still ta learn, if pride will let her return, yo, ta me, her teachah, her teachah!"

Christine slowly came forward, making her way up the steps. Raoul had gone to get his flimsy sword, but right now couldn't manage to buckle it around his waist.

As Erik and Christine stared deeply into each other's eyes, they slowly leaned forward to kiss… when…

"OOOOOOWWWWWW!" a voice screamed at the top of his lungs. Erik and Chris turned quickly to see Raoul, who had been having trouble drawing out his sword and had dropped it on the ground, cutting his foot. He was hopping around like the Easter Bunny on parade, whimpering pathetically.

"OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW, OW–"

"SHUT THE HECK UP!" Erik and Christine yelled in exasperation, glaring daggers at him.

Raoul glared at the both of them. "I HATE YOU, PHANTOM! DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE D–"

The Phantom had had enough of the fop's 'die' statement, so he decided to get out before he really killed someone. Suddenly noticing the gaudy ring Raoul had given her, Erik yanked the thing off its chain, bowed humbly to Christine, and whisked around.

Christine watched, both sad and depressed, as Erik suddenly whooshed himself down through one of his handy trap doors he had installed and disappeared below. However, she was happy that she had a good excuse for not wearing... 'the thing' around her neck anymore. "Erik, Erik, where for art thou, Erik?" she whined, sniffling.

Raoul snatched his sword, darted up the stairs, and yelling, "TAAALLY HOOOOOOOOOOoooo…" lunged down the trap door after Erik just before the doors closed behind him. When he finally fell to the bottom, he looked up, drew his sword, and came face to face with…

"AH!" he yelled, stepping back. Staring, wide-eyed, he took a hesitant step closer to the person only to realize that it was… himself! "NO!" he gasped, horrified, "It cannot be!" he frantically smoothed down his hair. "I cannot look this horrible! It's not possible!"

"Not _probable_," another voice chuckled evilly from somewhere.

"Shut, up, you vampire!" Raoul shrieked, "Stay away from Christine!"

"Make me!" the other cackled.

"Fine! I will!" Raoul screamed, angrily stomping out of the mirrored room and bumping right into Mme Giry. "Madame Giry, please!" he called after her.

She turned around. "What?" she snapped. "I'm not in the mood to talk with anyone right now. I just want my double mocha-nut venti latte, a Ben and Jerry's pint of Phish Food, and to watch CSI!"

Raoul halted. "You like CSI?" he squawked.

"Of course," the other sniffed.

"So THAT'S where Christine picked it up from," he said, the truth dawning upon him, "She got it from you!"

Mme Giry shot him an evil glare and swept away to her room, Raoul following her.

"Madame Giry!" he caught up to her, panting for breath. Boy, could she book it or what! "Please, tell me everything!"

"Monsieur, don't ask," Mme Giry shook her head. "There have been too many incidents."

"Incidents?" Raoul echoed. "Come on, you gotta tell me SOMETHING!"

"Listen," she started, growing more annoyed, "I know that the managers have been known to do incredibly stupid things, but it's not my fault that they tried to throw a swallow off of the balcony carrying a one-pound coconut!"

Raoul raised an eyebrow. "Erm, that wasn't what I was talking about…" he said.

"Oh. Well, what was it then? Hurry up, will you? I haven't got all day! Or night, for that matter." A sudden crackling noise scared them both, and Raoul screeched, ducking behind a curtain.

Mme Giry rolled her eyes. "Give me a break," she muttered, and slammed the door behind him. Whisking out her Nextel, she cleared her throat and started, "Well, Erik? What have you got to say for yourself!"

"Uh… uh… uh…"

"Very impressive. Anything else?"

"Uh… uh… uh…"

"Hmm, I thought as much. Did you enjoy scaring the living daylights out of all those poor people? The managers were so frightened (not to mention drunk) that they cowered under the staircase for over half an hour! It took me HOURS just to coax them out! They were utterly convinced that a 'big, bad, scary Phantom' was out to get them!"

"Uh… uh… uh…"

"Speak, man!" Mme Giry roared, slamming her fist down on the table.

"… Uh… uh… uh…"

Mme Giry sighed, clenched her fist, and muttered under her breath, "Serenity now, serenity now." She glanced down at the Nextel and decided to see if Erik was done with his no talking phase. "Erik? What's wrong with you? What did you do to the Fopster?"

"Uh… uh… uh…"

"ERIK!"

"Ididn'tdoanythingandI'msorryforruiningthepartybutIreallywantedtoseeChristineandwealmostkissedandIreallywantedtokilltheFopbutIknow  
youwouldn'tletmesoIdidn'tbutImadeupanewrapsongandIboughtmyselfsomeanimalsbutmyoperaneedstobesungandIwanttostrangelthemanagersand  
CarlottabutIknowChriswillgetmadifIdoand–"

"ERIK!"

"…Sorry about that." Erik inhaled deeply, seeming to have composed himself.

"Would you care to explain the situation?" Mme Giry demanded. "And what was with all the 'uh's'? You sounded… well… very odd!"

"Eh, I was kinda shocked that Chris and I almost kissed, ya know?" he said casually. "Anyhoo, I gots to run. Got my opera to sing, fops to strangle, managers to torture, prima donnas to scare, and hot girls to kiss. Phantom out!" There was a click on the other end, and she knew he had turned his Nextel off.

"Oh, boy," she sighed. A sudden banging on the door caused her to jump. "WHAT IS IT NOW?"

"I heard the Phantom in there!" Raoul hollered, "Now let me in or I'll… uh… erm… tell the managers!"

Mme Giry growled, whisked the door open, and pulled him in. "Fine, I'll tell you about the 'Phantom'," she began, and turned down the lights to an eerie dimness. Raoul glanced around nervously. "Once upon a time…" she spookily began, "In a faraway, exotic land… there was a young boy. Although he had the voice of an angel, his face was…" she paused, frowning.

"Was what?" Raoul leaned forward.

"His face was another story," was all Mme Giry could think of. "It was not completely hideous, only one side. He would be doomed to wear a mask for all eternity!" she cackled evilly, and Raoul shivered. To him, it felt like a ghost story. Well, the Phantom _was _the Opera Ghost. "But as you well know, vanity can hinder relationships," Giry went on, "And the boy, who escaped from the cage and killed his cruel master, helped by yours truly, grew into a handsome young man."

Raoul blinked.

"And so," she continued, "The handsome young man had everything he could ask for… a beautiful domain to live in… a large black stallion… food… clothes… and most importantly–"

"A mirror to look at himself in all the time?" Raoul piped up helpfully.

She shot him a withering glare. "NO!" The fop jumped back, whimpering. "Well, yes, he had many mirrors, but his pride prevented him from seeing the true beauty in himself. He was so vain that he thought his one and only love, the beautiful young singer, would think him ugly." Mme Giry snorted. "How pathetic. I THINK YOU OVERREACT JUST A LITTLE TOO MUCH, ERIK!" she shouted to the ceiling.

Raoul stared, glancing around.

"No, I don't! I'm terrifyingly monstrous!" Another voice yelled back, much to the fop's horror.

"It's him!" he whimpered, "It's the Phantom!"

"And I am NOT prideful!" the voice yelled once more.

"Yes, you are!" Mme Giry shouted back.

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"YES!"

"NO!"

"SHUT UP!"

"YOU SHUT UP!"

"NO, YOU SHUT UP!"

"YOU SHUT UP!"

Raoul, who had been shaking during the whole argument, suddenly screamed in fear, leapt up from his chair, and scrambled out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Mme Giry stopped arguing to watch him leave, quite amused. "Well, Erik? What did you think of my little tale?"

"I didn't like it."

"Too bad."

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**Do you think Erik's prideful? Well, maybe just a tad... lol. **

**Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training. **


	14. Project fourteen: Cemeteryphobia

**Parody of the Opera**

**By Serena Kenobi**

**A/N: This is a shorter chapter, but I hope you all enjoy it. Many thanks for the reviews!! They're always appreciated! I feel like doing a serious Phantom story soon... anyone second the idea? On a different note, I just watched the 1990 version of PoTO, starring Charles Dance. Not too bad, but of course I hated the ending. WHY, Christine? Why would you choose that prune, Phillipe? Geez, he was SO cheating on her with all the chorus girls, I don't know why on earth she'd choose him. Especially when she had such a nice, polite, and sweet Erik instead. Dude...**

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**Chapter fourteen: Project: Cemeteryphobia **

Disclaimer: If I owned Phantom of the Opera... well, needless to say I'd be totally rich, but also I'd have Christine stay with Erik. EC RULES! FOP LOVERS, DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!!! Nah, if you really like the dude, then that's okay. It's your opinion, and it's a free country. Well, then I will say... ERIK FOR PRESIDENT! LONG LIVE THE MASK!

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**Christine sighed** as she tossed and turned in her bed. It was around 4:00 in the morning, and nobody was up yet. Erik was nowhere to be found, and Raoul… well, she had been avoiding Raoul like the bubonic plague.

Deciding upon a whim that it would a be a fine idea to take an early morning carriage ride in the freezing, bitter cold to her father's grave to whine and complain about her dreadful situation, she sat up, threw on a very revealing black dress (after all, what if a very sexy opera ghost decided to show up as her poorly disguised carriage driver?), and hurried out of her room. She threw open the door and gasped in shock as she saw Raoul sitting there, asleep.

And boy, could he SNORE!

As she continued to stare at him, he began mumbling in his sleep. She crept closer to him, straining to hear what he was talking about.

"… Mmm… must kill… Phantom… gotta… get… mpph… a new mirror… die… Phantom…"

Christine rolled her eyes. Typical fop. She threw on her shawl and hurried past him down the stairs and into the stable. There, she snatched a pre-made bouquet of roses (she hadn't time to go out and pick some, and after all, it _was_ the middle of winter) and went over to the old carriage driver. "Hey, dude, I need a ride to the cemetery."

The old man quivered in fear. "Bu-but, I'm… I'm…" he stuttered, backing away from her.

"You're WHAT?"

"I have cemetaryphobia!"

"You have _what_?"

"Cemetaryphobia. Terrible, horrible condition."

She sighed. "There's no such thing as 'cemetaryphobia', doofus!" she snapped.

"Says you!" The man shrieked abruptly, cowering behind a horse.

Christine knew that she was getting nowhere with this lunatic and decided to bring out her big guns. "Listen, you old geezer," she hissed, "I have 100 francs here." She shoved them into his chest, causing him to cough violently. "Take them and drive me there, or else!" Whisking away, she strode off to find her matching black shawl.

The man shook his head and began to hook the horses up to the carriage, but suddenly, he felt the icy hand of death upon him!

… Actually, he only felt something hard upon him, and he was abruptly knocked out from behind. The bag containing the francs dropped to the floor alongside him, and a black-gloved hand swiftly picked it up.

Christine walked out to the carriage, apparently not noticing the new, taller, broader, and much more _sexy _and _mysteriously hot _man sitting in the driver's seat.

"My father's grave, please," she sighed, getting into the carriage.

The man nodded, inwardly grinning in triumph, and slapped the reins, the carriage hurrying off for the cemetery.

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Raoul, of course, had to wake up just as the carriage was leaving and hurried to look out the window. He saw to his horror that Christine was driving away with a tall, dark man. The carriage disappeared into the foreboding mist. "No!" he shrieked, grabbing his sword clumsily, "It's the Phantom Vampire! He's got Christine in his deathly clutches again!"

Unfortunately, no one was awake to hear him declare that obviously rehearsed statement.

Raoul rushed down as fast as his legs would carry him to the stable, where he found an old man rubbing his head and groaning. "Where did the fiend take her? Where, I say?" he demanded, shaking the poor old fellow furiously.

"What in the blazes are you talking about, boy?" the man asked, very irritated, "And for the love of the Opera Ghost, stop shaking me! I'm not some limp doll!"

"Where did the Phantom Vampire take my beloved and oh so darling Christine?" Raoul hollered, simply shaking the man even more.

"I don't know, bloody boy!" the old man growled, "But she wanted to go the…" he suddenly paled.

"To the WHAT?"

"The… the…"

"SPEAK, MAN!" Raoul screamed at the top of his lungs.

"The cemetery!" the man whimpered, dropping like a sack of potatoes onto the hay.

Raoul leapt onto a horse, winced in agony, and tried to gallantly canter off after the carriage. Unfortunately for him, the horse wouldn't budge. "MOVE, horse!" Raoul hissed, kicking it.

"Uh, he's a mute, boy," the old man told him in a hoarse voice.

"What? How can a horse be a mute?"

"Who knows? All's I know is that he's never spoken a word in his life," the man replied.

Raoul blinked. "Horses don't speak, you idiot!"

Hurt, the man scowled. "Of course they do! I talk with them all the time!"

"You're insane!"

"Well, you're rude!"

"You're a lunatic!"

"You're a prissy boy!"

Raoul gasped, daintily resting a perfectly manicured hand onto his heart. "Your words wound me, sir," he sniffed, large tears welling up in his baby blues.

"Ask me if I care!" The man snapped, rubbing his twice wounded head.

Raoul paused. "Do you care?"

"NO!"

At those words, Raoul burst into tears.

Abruptly, the horse decidedly charged forward, Raoul being thrown off and dragging alongside it. "HEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLP MEEEEEEEEE!" the fruity fop shrieked as he was pulled along down the streets of Paris, hanging on for dear life to the bridle of the apparently mute horse.

The old man grinned and scurried off.

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**That's it for that chapster. In the name of all Phantom lovers out there, please r&r! **

**Dear readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training. **


	15. Project fifteen: The Phantom Vampire

**The Parody of the Opera**

**By Serena Kenobi**

**Author's note: Thanks for all of your reviews!! I had one person saying that I should write a serious Phic... and I have a mind to do just that. I have a really different idea for a story, completely AU. I love AU. Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please R&R!**

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**Chapter fifteen: Project: The Phantom Vampire**

Disclaimer: If I owned PoTO, why would I be writing Phanfics? Well, even if I did own it, I'd still probably be writing Phanfics. Mwa ha hah..

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**  
Back to Chris** and the mysterious, sexy carriage driver. As she drove along, she couldn't help but think of her Opera Ghost. How was he? Was he all right?

And, more importantly, why was she getting the feeling that the driver wasn't who he had been before?

Well, never mind that.

When she arrived at the grave, she hopped out and decided to take a quick detour of the cemetery. Ghosts, graves, and Halloween had always fascinated her. She didn't know why. Maybe it was because she was dating a Ghost. Maybe it was because her father had read her creepy stories about goblins when she had been younger. Whatever the reason, she found herself enjoying her stroll through the graveyard.

"Hmm, hmm, hmm, passing ghouls and haunted angels," she sang in a low voice, "cold and monumental… I don't know why, but I just like them. Maybe I'm a really a vampire…" she grinned, starting to chuckle.

"Wishing he were somehow here with me," she sang, changing the subject to Erik, "Wishing I could tell him 'hi'. Sometimes it seemed, if I just dreamed, I would be in his arms!! Now the memories are my golden years, no more crying and shedding useless tears…" she stopped at her father's mausoleum. "I'll say… I love you!!! I'll say… I… love… you!" She sat down on one of the steps, staring at the roses.

After a moment of freezing her tush off, she sighed, glanced at the roses, and started to stand up.

"Wanderin' girl, so lost, so helpless, yo! Wantin' for my guidance!"

Christine grinned. "Angel, where are you hiding this time? Please come out so I can see you."

"Too long, yo, too long have ya wandered in da wintah, far from my true lovin' gaze, yo!"

"Wildly my mind beats for your own…"

"And da soul obeys, yo!"

"Angel of Music, friend and lover, grant to me your glory!"

"I love yo, Christine!"

"Angel of Music, please do not hide, come to me loving angel!" Chris belted out, heading for the door of the mausoleum.

"I am yo' angel of music, yo! You bettah belive I'm yo angel of music!" Erik rapped in a hauntingly mesmerizing voice.

It was then that the dreaded fop showed up.

"Christine!" he shouted, "NO!"

Christine whirled around. "WHAAAAAT IS IT THIS TIME?" she screamed in anger.

Raoul jumped off the apparently mute horse. "Whatever you believe, this man, this _thing_, is not your father!"

Christine frowned in confusion. "What? Raoul, what are you talking about?" she shouted.

Raoul paused. "What are _you_ talking about?"

"Wait, what are you talking about?"

"What are you talking about?"

"What. Are. You. Talking. About?"

"What're _you_ talking about?"

"What are–" Christine broke off, fuming. "FORGET THIS! I can't even talk to you!"

It was then it that incredibly dramatic moment that Erik himself decided to lunge down from the roof of the mausoleum and scare the daylights out of Raoul.

"AAAAAH!" Raoul screamed, clumsily drawing out his rapier, "Chrissy, get behind me! Don't let that Phantom Vampire touch you! He'll suck your blood!"

Erik waited patiently for Raoul to get his sword out. He decided to have a little fun and torture the fop, so he snarled, baring his teeth. "Yes…" he hissed, "I will suck your blood… and hers!" he started for the whimpering pansy. "You'd better watch your back!" He growled, taking a menacing step towards Raoul.

"Chri – Christ- t- tine," Raoul stuttered, eyes wide open, "get b-be-behind me so h—he won't hur-hurt you!"

Christine had been quiet this entire time, doing and saying nothing. "Oh no," she finally squeaked in a fake tone, "whatever will I do?" She shoved Raoul in the chest, causing him to fall to the ground. "Be a man, Raoul," she snapped, "even though I know it's a lot to ask of you."

Raoul rose to his feet shakily and turned to Erik, who was calmly surveying the conversation. "Fine," he gulped, "Let's fight. To the death!" He raised his sword and charged, screaming, at Erik.

Erik simply sidestepped the fruitcake and brought his own sword down on Raoul's. It went flying through the air and landed on the ground a few yards away. Raoul stopped, noticing that his sword was gone, and stared at Erik, whose sword was pointed at his chest. He squealed in fear and tried to lunge at him again, but Erik just stepped to the side once again. Then, Raoul tried a different tactic. Throwing snow at him.

"Die, Phantom!" He screamed desperately, growing red in the face, "JUST DIIIIIEEEE!"

Erik sighed, tired of the ordeal, and swiped Raoul's arm with his sword, making a slight cut on his arm.

Raoul stopped, glanced at his wound, and dropped to the ground, groaning. He grabbed his arm. "Oh… I'm mortally wounded," he whined, "I'll never survive with this fatal cut! I shall die… all my beauty, charm, wit, and handsomeness will never been seen again…"

Christine and Erik shared a look. "He can really talk it up, can't he," Erik remarked.

"You have no idea," Christine grumbled.

Raoul, big tears streaming down his face, looked at Erik. "Just kill me now and get it over with," he moaned dramatically, writhing in the snow.

Erik grinned darkly. "No," he said in a low, haunting voice, "I will not kill you. Instead, I am going to torture you. I will make you wish that you were dead." He leaned down. "You'll wish you had never been born."

Raoul burst into sobs. "What are you going to do to me?" he whined.

Erik stood up. "Me? Oh, I am not going to do anything to _you…_" he glanced meaningfully at Christine, who was demurely standing there.

Raoul got his meaning. "NO! Don't you touch her! Run, Christine, run! He'll suck your blood!"

Erik took a step towards Christine.

"Stay away from her!" Raoul howled.

Another step. Then another. Christine coyly stared up at Erik through her thick lashes.

Erik leaned toward her and promptly covered her mouth with his. After a moment, they were passionately kissing.

"STOP! CHRISTINE! CHRISSY!" Raoul screamed, suddenly having the power to get to his feet.

Erik turned sharply and bonked the fop over the head, causing him to fall to the ground, unconscious.

"Now, my dear, where were we?" Erik purred, taking Christine in his arms again.

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**Not quite the same ending as the movie, but that scene really depressed me. I know this how all of the EC shippers would've liked it to end, lol. **

**Dear readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training. **


	16. Project sixteen: The REAL Plan

**The Parody of the Opera**

**By Serena Kenobi**

**Author's note: So sorry for the long wait and no update! But I thank you for all of your reviews and hope you enjoy this chapter!!

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Chapter sixteen: Project: The REAL Plan**

Disclaimer: If I owned Phantom of the Opera, why would I be writing Phanfics?

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"We have all been blind," Raoul fumed as he licked his Jolly Rancher green apple lollypop. "And yet the answer is staring us in the face!"

Andre looked around closely. "Where? I don't see anything staring me in the face." He gasped. "Maybe the answer's _invisible…_" He wriggled his eyebrows up and down mysteriously.

Firmin promptly punched him in the gut.

"AHEM!" Raoul coughed, glaring. They looked at him. "This," Raoul paused dramatically for a drum roll that didn't exist, "could be the chance to ensnare our clever friend."

"He's not _my _friend," Firmin huffed indignantly.

"What does 'ensnare' mean?" Andre pondered, scratching his partially bald head.

"Shut it!" Raoul snapped. "You're ruining my dramatically suspenseful scene!"

The managers looked at each other.

"We're listening," Firmin grumbled.

"Go on," Andre added reluctantly.

Raoul grinned. "We," he paused again, "shall play his game. Perform his work but remember we hold the ace."

"Oh, I don't play poker," Firmin informed him.

Raoul turned on him. "It's… not… bloody… POKER! SHUT UP AND LISTEN!"

"Well, fine. No need to get all cranky on us," Firmin muttered under his breath.

"Looks like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," Andre piped up.

Raoul glared at him and said menacingly, "Looks like someone wants to get his brains blown out because he won't stop interrupting me!"

Andre whimpered and covered his face in his hands.

The fop turned and continued walking. "For if," another pause, "Miss Daae sings, he is certain to attend."

"Ooh, we'll save him a seat!" Andre chirped stupidly. "And then we can throw ropes around him and hit him with the…" it appeared as the dramatic pauses were by no mean an isolated incident. "With the… soft pillows!"

"The what?" Firmin and Raoul stared at him.

Andre nodded excitedly. "And if that doesn't work, we can make him sit in the… comfy chair!"

"The what?"

Andre grinned. "Yes, yes, yes, I'll be perfect!"

He was then punched again in the gut by Firmin, who turned to Raoul. "We are certain the doors are barred!" He belted out loudly.

"We are certain the police are there!" Andre shouted out after he was kicked by Firmin.

"We are certain that they're armed!" Raoul sang, twirling his lollypop in his perfectly manicured hand. "The curtain falls. His reign will end!"

"END, SHMEND," a horrifying familiar voice boomed out, echoing across the stage.

The three buffoons gasped and looked around frantically for any sign of the Opera Ghost.

"YOU KNOW… know… know…" Erik's voice continued to echo. "IF YOU REALLY WANTED YOUR PATHETIC PLAN TO WORK, YOU WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN ANNOUNCING IT FOR THE WHOLE BLASTED WORLD TO HEAR… hear… hear…."

The three men looked at each other.

"I thought this was supposed to be a secret," Firmin said through his teeth.

Raoul blinked. "It was…" he shook his head, "Is! Have no fear, the Phantom will not discover our real plan!" He looked around slyly and leaned in. "We'll use this one as a cover for our real plan! Got it?"

"Uh, just one question," Andre said, "What's the real plan?"

Raoul opened his mouth and shut it. "No, don't you get it?" He finally hissed. "We'll make the Phantom think that we're using this plan, but then just to fool him, we'll _really _use this plan!"

The managers stared at him.

"Doesn't sound like much of a plan to me," Firmin muttered.

"Well it is!" Raoul screamed. He stiffened. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go see to my beautiful fiancee." He smiled and sighed happily. The next thing he knew, the managers had burst out laughing. He glared at them. "What?"

They merely continued to laugh.

"WHAT?" Raoul roared. "WHAT IS SO FUNNY?"

Mme Giry came by, stared at the Vicompte. "You have a green tongue," she stated, sweeping off to find her daughter.

Raoul's eyes bulged in surprise and shock. "Green tongue?" He stuck his tongue out to try and see it. "I can't thee my tongue!" He cried, trying in vain to stick his tongue out to be able to see it.

"Look..." Firmin laughed, nearly in tears, "in a mirror!" He then fell to the floor, laughing his heart out.

Raoul glared at the two men. "It's not funny!" he whimpered, storming off to find a mirror. Unfortunately, he had forgotten his lovely compact mirror, so he would have to find one in the Opera house. But even more unfortunately for him, there was not a mirror to be found. "This isn't fair!" He screamed, stamping his foot. Then suddenly it hit him. The mirror in Chrissy's room! He hurried to her dressing room, threw open the door, and went up to the floor-to-ceiling mirror, sticking out his tongue. "AH! I'ths weally gween!" He hollered, and frantically tried to wipe the greenness off. However, his attempts were all in vain. The greenness would not come off. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" He screeched, drooling as his mouth hung open.

What he didn't know was that Erik was standing right behind the mirror and silently laughing so much that it hurt.

Raoul glared at the mirror. "This can't be happening!" He yelled. "My tongue can't be gween!" Suddenly he paused and stood there, silent. His eyes widened even further when he heard the sound of laughter all around him. "SHUT UP, STUPID PHANTOM!" He bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"Make me," the Phantom's voice whispered all around him.

Raoul's breathing began to quicken, and stared at the mirror with utter hatred. "You cannot have my Chrissy!" He shouted out, turning quickly around to storm out of the room.

"Don't let the door hit ya on the way out!" The Phantom sang. "And you might wanna try using water before ya talk to Chrissy!"

"GO AWAY!" Raoul sobbed, slamming the door shut behind him.

Erik chuckled.

* * *

**Just had a sudden urge to write that funny scene. Don't know why I thought of lollypops... anyhoo, hope you like! **

**Dear readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training**

* * *


	17. Project seventeen: The Spanish Inquisi

**The Parody of the Opera**

**By Serena Kenobi**

**Author's note: Once again, thank you for all of your reviews!! I loved the 'Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!' you guys wrote. I guess I'm not the only one who's a Monty Python fan!! Good to know. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter seventeen: Project: The Spanish Inquisition**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Phantom of the Opera or Monty Python, why would I be writing fanfiction? Also don't own Chamillionaire or his songs. Not that I put his songs in this chapter. Oh, or the Loch Ness Monster.  
**

* * *

**Christine**, who was hiding from the dreaded fop, sat in the small chapel, her eyes closed and her head leaned against the stained-glass window. Her mouth was moving, and her head was rocking back and forth as she listened on her iPod to Chamillionaire rapping. Erik's idea.

Raoul, whose tongue was still very green (or gween), rushed down the stairs, screaming, "CHRISSY! OH CHRISSY!!!"

Chris couldn't hear him.

Raoul leaped down a few stairs, when suddenly –

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

He tripped, stumbled, and bounced down on his butt the rest of the way down, finally coming to a large crash at the bottom. He lay there, moaning, and curled up into a heap.

Christine still couldn't hear or see him.

Raoul groaned. "I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I'm dead I'm…" he opened his eyes a crack. "Not dead." He picked himself up gingerly and brushed his now sooty and dust-covered new smoking jacket off. Not that he smoked, of course. He couldn't ruin his beautiful and healthy lungs, and what if he started coughing? No way, Jose.

He looked at Christine, who still wasn't aware of his not-so-graceful arrival. "Chrissy! Didn't you hear me calling?" He whined.

She didn't answer.

He took a step towards her. "Chrissy! Answer me!"

Nothing.

"CHRISSY! STOP IGNORING YOUR FUTURE HUSBAND!" He yelled.

No response.

Raoul stormed up to her and waved a hand in front of her face. She didn't do anything. So he waved harder and yelled, "CHRISSSSSSY!"

She was unresponsive.

Raoul stamped his foot, pouting. "CHRISSY! ANSWER ME!! WHY DON'T YOU ANSWER ME??!"

Finally, he poked her, expecting her to slowly and delicately open those doe brown eyes of hers, filled with love and adoration only for _him_, and not for that PHANTOM VAMPIRE, and calmly and sweetly sing, "My love, you've come for me!"

But, as all of you will well know, that's definitely not what happened.

Christine's eyes shot open and she jumped to her feet, screaming at the top of her lungs with shock and surprise.

Raoul, watching her as she screamed, opened his mouth calmly and began screaming along with her: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!"

They both continued to scream until the very foundation of the Opera House shook, and even a few of Erik's prized paintings fell off the wall, and a few mirrors that he was saving for shattering later suddenly shattered.

Erik covered his ears at the noise and roared, "I WANTED TO SHATTER MY MIRRORS MYSELF!!!" And promptly went angrily out, wanting to murder someone.

Chris and Raoul kept screaming until Chris's lungs needed some air. However, just like the long-lasting green gum commercial, Raoul kept screaming. And screaming. And screaming. In a very high-pitched manner.

Finally, she'd had it. "SHUT IT!" She barked in the most commanding tone he'd ever heard.

Raoul whimpered and cowered in the corner. "Wh-where were you, Chrissy?" He said nervously. "I was looking for you everywhere!"

Christine glared at him. "Do I look like I wanted to be found?"

He shrugged. "Yes." Suddenly regaining his courage, which he didn't have much of to begin with, he hopped up and frowned. "Chrissy! Why did you leave with the Phantom? Does he still have a spell on you? Why didn't you answer me when I was talking to you? And why didn't you help me up when I was hurt? Did you not see me writhing in agony? Are you that cruel? How come you didn't see me? And why were you screaming?"

"SHUT UP!" She hollered, instantly causing him to shut his mouth. "Geez, I didn't expect a kind of Spanish Inquisition!"

Suddenly, a man in a red cape came bounding down the stairs and popped his head into the room. "Nooooooobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!!" He crowed. "Our chief weapon is fear; fear and surprise – our TWO chief weapons are fear and surprise–"

"Go away!" Christine screamed.

Raoul wondered if her throat ever got sore.

The man made a face and suddenly was gone.

Christine turned back to him. "Okay, Raoul, I'm only going to say this once, and once only. I am not your wife. Or your fiancée, or your girlfriend – heck, I'm not even your bloody friend! I'm merely an old acquaintance who hates your foppish guts!"

Raoul swallowed as she advanced on him.

"So, if you don't leave me the heck alone, I'll have no choice but to set my pet on you!"

"No!" Raoul breathed in horror, "not the Loch Ness Monster!"

"The same!" She screeched. "Penelope lives down in the Phantom's river, and if you don't stop following me, then I'll drag you down there and feed you to her myself, your green tongue and all!"

Raoul spluttered, sobbed, and finally stomped out of the room.

* * *

**He he he... **

**Dear readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training. **


	18. Project eighteen: Fopproof Plan

**The Parody of the Opera**

**By Serena Kenobi**

**Author's note: (runs away and hides, screaming) I know, I know!! I haven't updated in ages... so so sorry... but I'm updating now, right? (laughs weakly) Yeah, okay. I deserve whatever censure I get. But I hope you enjoy this chappie. **

* * *

**Chapter eighteen: Project: Fopproof Plan**

**Disclaimer: If I owned PoTO... uh, I'd be rich. Which I'm not. Also don't own Desperate Housewives (nor do I watch it) or anything else I didn't create. Which is nada. **

* * *

**  
**

**Meanwhile**, down in his LAIR, NOT CELLAR, Erik was concocting a brilliant, stupendously amazing and downright, sheer genius plan that was completely, totally, and utterly foolproof.

Heck, it was even _fop_proof.

It couldn't get much better than that.

After throwing a few pieces of meat to his tiger, he slipped on his mask, snickering to himself. Brushing a few pieces of lint of his outfit, he surveyed himself with a critical eye in the mirror. "Hmm," he said. Then, grinning, he added, "I look totally cool, yo! Chris's gonna be sooo pleased wit dis, man!" He rubbed his hands together gleefully and sang, "Seal my fate t'night, yo, I'm gonna cut Goldilock's hair short, and da fun's gun'na begin. Let da audience in. Let my rap song begin, yo!" He was doing such a in-play routine that he accidentally knocked over a candle and watched in horror as it began to burn one of the sets he had made.

"NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!" He screamed, frantically trying to put the fire out with his feet. "STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP-"

He didn't, in all his furious panic, realize that Christine had arrived and was staring at him with wide eyes.

"FIRE FIRE FIRE FIRE FIRE FIRE FIRE FIRE–" He roared furiously, only one word at a time repeating from his (dare I say… totally hot?) lips.

"ERIK, SHUT UP!" Christine shouted, coming up to him and shaking him vehemently.

Erik blinked. "Uh… uh… uh…"

"What are you _doing_?" She demanded, her grip curiously strong.

"Uh…uh…uh…"

"What on earth were you _thinking_?"

"Uh…uh…uh…"

"Are you _completely _insane? Are you _out of your mind_?"

"Uh…uh…uh…"

"Wait," she sighed, putting a hand to her forehead. "Don't answer that question."

Erik glared. "Hey, I'm not da one who yells all da time, yo."

"And I'm not the one who keeps the entire DVD collection of 'Friends' and 'Justice League Unlimited' in my basement.

Erik blushed. "Were you poking around in places you weren't supposed to?" He accused. "Like my… secret drawer?"

Christine shrugged. "Well, hey, honey, if you're gonna marry me, you gotta have no secrets."

"Uh, marry you?" Erik stammered.

Now it was Christine's turn to blush. "What?"

"What?"

"What?"

"What?"

"I didn't say anything."

Erik raised an eyebrow and poked her in the stomach. "Yeah, you said 'if you're gonna marry me'. Does that mean you wanna tie da knot?"

"Only if you want to."

"Well sure."

"Well okay then."

"Well fine."

"Well then."

"But no wisecracks about my DVD collections," Erik said.

"Fine, then don't laugh at my CSI obsession."

"Deal."

Erik and Christine shook hands. The two stared at each other calmly.

"So…" Erik began casually, as if nothing had happened, "am I gonna hafta buy you a ring?"

"Yeah."

"Dang it." Erik scowled. "Knew there was a catch."

"Too late to go back on your word now," Christine smirked, raising an eyebrow. She began to walk away. "Well, time for me to get ready before Le Fop finds me. See you tonight."

Erik flashed her a sexy grin. "Ya know it, baby."

Christine blushed up to the roots of her hair and grinned. "Charmer."

"Prima Donna."

"Sexy Opera Ghost."

"CSI Nerd."

Christine gaped. "HEY!" She scrunched up her nose. "No fair!" With that, she flounced back up to the real world.

Erik waited until she was gone to begin laughing his head off. Yes, life was good. And in a few short hours, it was gonna get a whole lot better. And he would bring a whole to meaning to 'bringing the house down.'

Maybe even literally.

* * *

Raoul was bored. Bored, bored, bored, bored, and more bored. And you know what else? He was bored. And another thing. He was bored. VERY VERY bored. So bored he was almost dead. And in danger of dying from boredom, was, not to put too fine a point on it, a very boring way to die. 

It was just all so _boring. _GAH! Raoul growled and began pacing Box Five. He needed some action. He needed some suspense, some drama, some intrigue, and heck, maybe even some angst.

He needed to watch a Desperate Housewives marathon and then go read some Desperate Housewives fanfiction.

He flicked on the portable satellite TV and sank back into his seat, watching the oh-so-exciting beauties of Wisteria Lane bicker and argue about practically nothing.

Dude, he was still bored.

He needed cake.

There was still about an hour left before the show started, so he lugged himself down to the Opera Catering Company and searched for any sign of frosting-covered delight.

To his delight, there was some frosting-covered delight. How delightful! He grabbed a paper plate, eyed his surroundings warily, and promptly shoved a piece of cake, very ungentlemanly-like, into his mouth.

And then, of course, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

He turned around, expecting to see Christine or the managers –

"MMMMFFFF!" He couldn't scream or even say anything because of the cake stuffed into his mouth.

And the Opera Ghost was standing right in front of him, looking at him in amusement.

"Good ghosts, man, could you fit anything else inside that pie-hole of yours?" He said, his voice tinged with laughter.

Raoul tried to say something but couldn't. He frantically began chewing and swallowing but just began to choke. Erik grinned and slapped him on the back, and Raoul tried to scream again, motioning wildly for someone to come.

Nobody did because nobody could hear him.

Finally, Erik swished away, saying, "Well, ta-ta my jolly old fellow! Have fun trying to capture me!"

Raoul then started to cry, his mouth still full of the not-so-delightful-anymore cake.

For the Vicompte De Chagny, life was SO not good.

* * *

**You dudes know the drill... **

**Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training.**


	19. Project nineteen: KHAAAAN!

**The Parody of the Opera**

**By Serena Kenobi**

**Author's note: Yes, yes, I know... I haven't updated in ages. SO SO SORRY!! I've been a bad authoress... (slaps self) Bad authoress, bad authoress! But exciting news... WE MADE IT TO 300 reviews!! Over!! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!! You guys are seriously THE best bunch of reviewers I've had thus far. You guys rock. Give yourselves a pat on the back and free Erik plushies! **

**Oh, and to _Morkio Csove Doyle: _I like Deliciously Anti-Social the best, but it's your band. However, I'm flattered that you'd even ask! Thanks! I feel so loved... lol. **

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**Chapter nineteen: Project: KHAAAAN!**

**Disclaimer: If I owned PoTO, let's just say Raoul wouldn't have any hair by now. Also don't own Star Trek, Star Wars, PS3, or Lemon Curry. Maybe I'll go out and buy some... **

* * *

  
This was it. The night of all nights. The evening of all evenings. The opera of all operas. The show of all shows. The music of all musices. The Phantom of all Phantomses.

You get the general idea.

Madame Giry, as usual, was sitting her room, playing a new video game on her PS3 console, when there was a loud knock on the door. "GO AVAY!" She screamed loudly, and returned to slaughtering aliens. Her fingers were shaking, and her eyes bulging out of their sockets. Well, playing video games for fourteen straight hours would do that to a person.

The knock continued.

"BUSY HERE!" She shrieked.

"Mama!" Meg's whiny voice whined whinily (how's that for alliteration, huh?). "Mama, the whole ballet corp's waiting for you! The show's gonna start any second!"

"JUST A MINUTE!"

"MAMA! NOW! Quit playing that stupid video game and-"

The door flew open, and Mme Giry's half-crazed face appeared. Meg swallowed and took a step back. "Uh… hello," she squeaked.

"It's. Not. A. Stupid. Video. Game. And. You're. Grounded. For. LIFE!" Mme Giry hissed, then slammed the door in her daughter's face.

Meg's lower lip trembled, and she ran off, bursting into tears and screaming, "CHRIIIISTTTINNNE!"

* * *

It was time for the opera to start.

Andre and Firmin sat down in their normal box across from Raoul, who slumped into his seat, his face still covered with frosting, and his cheeks perfectly red.

"Is it just me, or does the boy look like a complete fop?" Firmin muttered to Andre.

Andre, however, was staring at the chandlier, entranced.

"Andre?" Firmin frowned. "Andre!"

"So pretty… I want to touch it," Andre whispered, eyes never moving from the lights above.

"Andre, snap out of it, man!"

"Must… touch… lights…" Andre began to climb out of his seat and reach for the chandelier.

Firmin abruptly yanked him down, and he fell backwards, his head crashing back onto the seat. Firmin frowned and slapped his cheeks. "Andre? Wake up!"

Andre was out cold.

Firmin sighed, shook his head, and heaved the man back into the chair. He tried to make him sit upright, but he kept slouching over, his mouth hanging open. Firmin noticed people were beginning to stare and pulled the back of Andre's shirt, holding it so he would sit partially upright in his seat. But it was no use. Andre's head hung down on his chest. Firmin began to panic and realized he'd have to think fast. "Uh, so, old chap!" He said cheerfully, slinging an arm around his shoulders, gripping tightly. "How are we today?"

"Oh, lovely," Firmin added, doing a poor imitation of Andre's voice, "Very, very lovely."

"Much better than the junk business, eh?" Firmin said in his normal voice.

"SCRAP METAL!" Andre suddenly screamed, his eyes popping open. Firmin yelped and leapt out of his seat, falling on the floor. "Actually." But then, Andre's eyes slid shut, and he returned to his state of unconsciousness.

Firmin rose gingerly to his feet, glaring at the unconscious Andre, and punched him in the face. Andre slumped back to the floor, and Firmin brushed himself off, returning to his seat. "Junk business," he hissed.

The lights dimmed suddenly, warning everyone of the start of the show, and the audience became quiet as the curtain slowly drew back to reveal…

"KHAAAAAAN!" Someone screamed randomly, causing everyone to jump ten feet high in his or her seat.

After an uncomfortable moment of silence, everyone returned their attentions to the stage, dismissing the outcry as merely a lunatic looking for attention.

The curtain, which had halted in its movement, now drew a few more inches back to reveal…

"LEMON CURRY!" Someone else screamed even more randomly, causing everyone to jump only five feet high in his or her seat.

There was another pause, and then the audience looked back at the stage, some of them muttering incoherent threats.

The curtain, which had stopped again, even more slowly pulled back a few scarce inches to reveal…

"DARTH VADER!" Another random crier screamed.

The curtain stopped. But this time, no one bothered to jump out of their seats.

The curtain now warily began to pull back, miniscule half-inch by half-inch…

"SPAM!" Another crazy person screamed.

This time, the audience had had it.

"GET ON WITH IT!" They roared simultaneously.

The curtain rolled back to finally reveal…

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" A familiar foppish voice screamed loudest of all.

Everyone sat, transfixed, as onstage, two people were passionately kissing (aka making out). Said people were none other than Christine Daae… and a very tall, dark, and handsome man wearing a black mask. And of course, Raoul had been the one to scream last, horrified at the scene before him.

Christine and Erik separated once Le Fop screamed, and Erik quickly kissed Christine's hand gallantly, bowed deeply to the audience, and disappeared into the shadows offstage.

Christine and entire female section in the audience sighed dreamily in unison.

Raoul was _really not _having the bestest day…

* * *

**Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, Readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training. **


	20. Project Twenty: Da Point of No Return,Yo

**The Parody of the Opera**

**By Serena Kenobi**

**Author's note: I hadn't thought about introducing Nadir cause he wasn't in the movie - and he probably won't be in this fic. Anyway, thanks all for reviewing! I decided to split this chapter into two parts. **

**OOH YEAH! If you guys want to see a painting I did of Erik and Christine, plus other Erik and Christine sketches and other fan art, check out my Fanlib profile. It'll be a link on my profile on here. **

* * *

**Chapter Twenty: Project: Da Point of No Return, Yo! (Part One)**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Phantom, Raoul would be forced to watch Christine go with Erik for twelve hours straight. HAHA! Eh-hem. **

* * *

It was finally time for the show to start. Everyone had gotten their popcorn, their tissues, their big gallons of Chunky Monkey ice cream, their chocolates, their fuzzy bunny slippers, and their remotes in case they needed to pause the show to use the bathroom. 

Er, yeah.

The curtain drew back, and everyone waited tensely in case some other nut decided to call out something completely random like "NOTLOB!" But to everyone's relief, no one did. One person did try to shout out "GAMBIT!" But the old ladies sitting next to him quickly overpowered him, knocking him out with their extremely heavy purses.

The show began, and out came Carlotta with a lot of other people we don't need to either know or mention, and began rapping the first song. Unfortunately, no one understood what the heck anyone was saying, so Carlotta's opening wasn't very spectacular. Cart herself was furious. As the song (rap) ended, she screamed and shouted, "DIS EEZ EEENZAAANE! I'M NEEFER DOINK DIS AGEEEEN!"

Unfortunately for her, no one understood what the heck she was saying, even without rapping, and so poor Carlotta was merely shoved backstage and threatened with pepper spray if she didn't shut up.

Then a very fat and ugly Don Juan came out. All the ladies booed him instantly and started throwing balls of lettuce and empty boxes of chocolate at him.

"WE WANT PHANTOM! WE WANT PHANTOM!" The chant started quietly but then grew into a unanimous roar that shook the opera house all the way down to the cellars.

"LAIR!" Erik screamed as his home shook, "NOT CELLAR!" He glared up at the stone roof that seemed to be becoming a bit loose. He noticed that some dust was following… his eyes widened. "CAVE IN?" He shouted. "AW, COME ON, MAN!" He shot an evil look to the ceiling. "STOP BLOWING HOLES IN MY LAIR!" But after he heard that everyone was asking for _him_, he grinned widely. "Forget dis, man!" He shouted happily, rising to his feet and putting on his Don Juan mask. "I'm gonna be bringin' down da house TONIGHT, YO!"

Christine, meanwhile, was inspecting her fingernails, bored out of her mind. She needed to do something. She needed to hurt something. She needed to kill something… murder… murder… die… die… Christine looked around for someone to vent out her killing feelings on. As her eyes scanned the backstage, whom should she see but everyone's favorite Fat Opera Peachy Carebear, Piangi! Christine grinned.

She slinked up to him slowly as he put on his mask, tapped him on the shoulder, and then knocked him out with one fell swoop. As she snickered at his fallen fat form, a dark shadow swooped down from above and landed in front of her. Christine jumped, turned, squeaked, stared, and swooned.

"Chris! Yo, Chris! Wake up, girl! C'mon, baby!"

Christine coughed as someone poured water on her face. She blinked up at a startled Erik. "Hey, hon. What up?"

"You tell me! Are yo' aight?"

Christine blushed and rose to her feet. "Yeah… fine… just… peachy." She looked down at Piangi. "Actually, he's peachy, but that's besides the point." Suddenly, her eyes widened. "The point!" She patted Erik's shoulder. "Thanks for reminding me, Erik! I gotta be onstage in five seconds!" She then kissed him quickly and skipped off onstage.

Erik stared after her, completely bewildered. "What in Jay-Z?"

"No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy…" Christine sang, now a demure, sweet girl holding a basket of flowers. "No dreams within her heart but dreams of loooooove…"

Erik came out, holding his arm in front of his face so the short creepy little midget wouldn't recognize him. But as he came out, he muttered, "Dis is stupid, man! It don't matter if I hold my arm out now – dey're gonna see me some time…" He put his arm down. "Yo," he began to rap. "Passarino, man, now go away, man, cuz I set da trap and am waitin' for the prey, man."

The two guys shuffled off, confused.

Erik grinned and began walking towards Christine as the rap music commenced. "Yo' have come here, girl, in pursuit of yo' deepest urge, girl. Ya know your emotions are gonna surge, girl. In pursuit of dat wish, which till now, has been shh! Silent, yo! Shh! Silent, yo!" He winked at her and put a hand to his lips, and Christine saw at least twenty women swoon in the audience.

Erik continued: "I 'ave brought yo' here, baby, so our passions can fuse an' merge, baby. In yo' mind you've already, already succumbed to me, baby." The music came to a slow, and then it sped up as hip-hop dancers came onstage and started dancing.

"Past de point of no return, yo," Erik rapped, spinning around, "No backward glances! Our games of make believe are at an' end!" He grinned and moved behind her as she danced slightly to the side. "Past all thoughts of if or when, yo! No use resistin, dere's no resistin' girl – abandon thought and let da dream descend, girl!"

Christine grinned at him. She was having the time of her life.

Raoul's mouth was gaping wide open.

* * *

**Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, Readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training.  
**


	21. Project TwentyOne: The FRISBEE!

**Parody of the Opera**

**By Serena Kenobi**

**A/N: **OK... look, I know it's been WAY WAY WAY TOO LONG since the last update, but I have a good explanation. REALLY!! I was finishing up my novel before the fall - and when everything returns to hecticness (word?). So, yes, I didn't update, but I did write a novel-length science-fiction/romance/thriller novel. GO ME! I'm going to try and get it published. Wish me luck!! But in any case, here is the next chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One: Project: Frisbee (Part Two)**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Phantom of the Opera, Raoul would be trapped in a dumpster with a ****beaver**** and a ****microphone****. The beaver, because it would bite off all of Raoul's hair, and the microphone so we could all hear his screams. I'm evil. I know.**

* * *

After Erik had finished his little rap medley, it was Christine's turn. She opened her mouth to sing, preparing to belt out a lovely tune –

"WHERE THE HECK IS MY FRISBEE?"

Christine and Erik looked at the confused audience.

"YEAH, THAT'S WHAT I SAID!" A spindly little guy in his mid-twenties was shouting into a cell phone that was as large as his black suitcase. In fact, he had to put the phone on his lap. "WHERE THE HECK IS MY FRISBEE?"

He was instantly pelted by popcorn, squeegees, and Erik plushies.

"OW! GOSH!" he screamed, glaring at everyone through his dark sunglasses. Why he was wearing sunglasses in a dark opera house no one knew. Some suspected him to be perhaps a French secret agent, but others told them that was impossible: only U.S. secret agent wore cool sunglasses like that. But then again, some others mused, the guy obviously _wasn't _very cool if he was stupid enough to be wearing sunglasses in a dark opera house. So, they settled on the fact that he was merely an insane whackjob who needed to get a smaller cell phone.

Christine cleared her throat and opened her mouth to sing once again.

"SAAAY YOU LOVE ME!" another voice belted out into song. Christine and Erik were startled to see Raoul, heroically jumping onto the stage, his golden locks swaying delicately in the nonexistent breeze. "CHRIIISTINNNE!! THAT"S AAAALLL IIII AAAASSSSK OF - OOOFFF!" He was abruptly interrupted by some staff members from the Erik Phans United group, who tackled him offstage.

No one took any more notice of him as he was hauled away.

Christine cleared her throat again, glaring at the audience, daring them to say something. After a tense moment, she opened her mouth slowly. Halting, she didn't sing, waiting cautiously.

"Just keep singing, just keep singing, just keep singing, singing, singing," Meg trilled cheerily as she sucked on a jolly rancher.

Madame Giry jammed her earbuds further into her ear, turned up the volume to maximum on her new iPhone and promptly downed a whole mug of Smirnoff.

Christine heard nothing and started to sing. "You have brought me…."

"To CANDYLAND!" someone in the front row screamed, hurling a Candyland box onstage. She was immediately taken down by the angry rich front-rowers.

Christine was seething, and Erik was getting worried. No one wanted to be within a ten foot – er, mile – radius of Christine when she was angry.

"You have brought me..." she tried again.

"CANDY!" the same lady screeched will being hauled away in a straight jacket.

"You have brought me..." Third time's a charm... maybe.

"A FRISBEE!" The Non-U.S./French secret agent yelled as he tried to stand up. But his cell phone wouldn't allow it - he couldn't get the dang thing off his lap. He was stuck there, and was promptly pelted once more with paintballs, little old ladies' walking canes, scooter wheels, and ketchup.

"To that moment when words run dry," Christine gritted out, glaring at the audience. "To that moment when speech disappears into _silence…_" she spat at the audience. "Into SILENCE!" she screamed furiously.

The audience, and Erik, jumped back ten feet.

"I have come here!" Christine shrieked. "Knowing EXACTLY the reason why! In my mind I've already imagined me murdering all of you, defenseless and silent. SILENT!" she screeched again.

Raoul, who was hiding in his box from the evil Erik Phans because he thought they would never look for him there (not very smart, but hey, did we ever give Raoul credit for having a semblance of a brain?), dove under the seat. Meanwhile, the rest of the audience had fallen completely silent. No one moved for fear of angering the prima donna even further.

Christine glared out once more at the audience and suddenly smiled sweetly at Erik. He smiled back hesitantly.

Madame Giry sighed as she stared at Christine. "And I thought Erik was the crazy one." She glanced at a stupefied, not very well hidden police officer. "You know, rumors are the Phantom is actually a woman."

Christine continued to sing, still shooting glares to the audience, and made her way up the staircase. Erik followed, still hesitant. "… When will the flames at last… consume… the AUDIENCE!" Christine sang menacingly. "Er, US," she corrected, smiling at Erik. Now he looked downright disturbed.

"Past the point of no return," they both sang. "The final threshold! The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch-"

"THEM!" Christine shouted, pointing to the audience.

"IT!" Erik corrected. "Burn! We've passed da point of no return, yo!"

"THEY'VE passed the point of no return!" Christine sang angrily, frowning at Erik.

He glanced nervously around and sang back, "But now dey've shut up, yo!"

"I don't care!" she sang back. "My tears that might have shed for their dark fate…" she glanced up at the chandelier. "Grow colder now and turn to tears of HATE!"

"WRONG LINE!" a stagehand yelled up. "That's in Act Ten!"

"Three!" another one corrected.

"THREE!" the first stagehand shouted up. He frowned. "No, Act Three was when the Phantom took Christine down to-" the second stagehand suddenly knocked him out for no reason. They had a sudden funeral right there and then.

A preacher in dark clothing stepped out onstage. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God, to witness the union of-"

"Uh, man, this is a funeral," the stagehand who had merely knocked the first man out said.

The preacher glanced down at the open casket, the unconscious stagehand, and the other stagehands who had gathered around the casket. "Oh. I see." He cleared his throat. "Dearly beloved, we gather here in the sight of God to witness the death of..."

"Carl."

"Carl. Carl was a great man," the priest said sadly. "He will be missed by all of us."

"Not really," one stagehand muttered.

"Shut up!" The priest snapped. The man glowered. "He will be missed by all of us," he continued in a wistful voice. "Especially his own family, his wife, his seventeen children-"

"Uh, he never married," another stagehand piped up. "And he had no kids."

"He took a vow of celibacy," the second stagehand told him.

The preacher glanced down at the first stagehand. "Pansy." He snorted. "In any case, he will be missed. Carl was a great stagehand. He never complained, never-"

"Actually, he complained A LOT," the second stagehand piped up. "That's why I punched 'im out, as it were. Watch, the moment he gets up, he'll start complain' of a bad headache."

"SHUT UP!" the preacher hissed.

Carl's eyes fluttered open. "Oh... my head..." he moaned.

The preacher and the second stagehand exchanged glances, and abruptly, the second stagehand punched Carl again.

"'Ey, what'd you do that for?" another stagehand asked.

The seconds stagehand-who-shall-not-be-named-in-this-story shrugged. "My first funeral. Don't want t' be cheated out of it."

The preacher sighed and closed his Bible. "All right, listen up. I didn't know Carl, nor did I want to, nor ever will want to. The only reason I came here was because to become an official preacher, I had to do one funeral. So, now Carl's dead, blah, blah, blah, may his body rest in peace, blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda, aaaand we're done." He smiled as the casket was pulled away with Carl still in it. "Drinks anyone?"

Back to the real story.

Deciding to try a different tactic, Erik sang, "Say you'll spare dem and dat you won't kill dem… let dem leave an' I will follow yo'… please don't kill dem 'cause dat is kinda MY job… but anywhere you go, hon, I'm comin', too. CHRISTINE, THAT'S WHAT I'M TELLIN'-"

And then the unthinkable, the unimaginable, the inconceivable, the indescribable, the inexpressible, the unutterable, the incommunicable, the unbelievable, the impossible, the improbable, the implausible, the incredible, the wonder-how-many-more-of-these-can-I-get-out-ible/able...

Happened.

* * *

**I know, I'm evil. Hey, I TOLD YOU!**

**Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, Readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training. **


	22. Project TwentyTwo: The That One TM

**The Parody of the Opera**

**By Serena **

**A/N:** (Ducks Flying Frisbees) Yep. I deserve it. But I have a good reason, I really do! Not only have I been sick for the past three months, but I managed to finish my novel (YAY!) and am now preparing query letters and finishing up the final edit. I'm praying that an agent will accept it. Minuscule chance that it will, but hey - if you don't try, then... you, uh, don't try. I at least gotta try.

SO ANYHOO!

**WARNING:** This chapter is probably THE MOST RANDOM CHAPTER OF THEM ALL. You have been warned. See the big "WARNING!" sign? Yeah.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Project: The - That - One(TM!) **

**Disclaimer:** **Don't own Nadir, don't own the Matrix or anyone in the Matrix (or out of it, for that matter), or 24. If I owned PoTO.... ooh, the possibilities... **

* * *

When we last left the elusive, the mysterious, the seductive, the dangerous, the tall, the dark, the handsome, the utterly and just-too-sexy-for-his-shirt Phantom of the Opera…

He was singing at the top of his tall, dark, handsome, utterly and just too-sexy-for-his-shirt lungs.

When we last left the elusive, the beautiful, the angelic, the easily irritated, the not-so-mousy Christine Daae…

She was watching the utterly and just-too-sexy-for-his-shirt Phantom of the Opera sing at the top of his… lungs.

When we last left Nadir…

Wait. Hold it.

Nadir doesn't _have _a part in this tale.

"WHY THE BLOODY PERSIAN EMPIRE NOT?"

Erik stopped singing and stared down at the fuming Daroga down onstage. "Excuse me?"

Nadir glared at up at him. "You owe me, ERIK! I'm your BLOODY friend and I deserve a BLOODY good explanation for why I'm not in this BLOODY story!"

It was then that an Andrew Lloyd Webber purist rushed up behind the unfortunate Daroga and knocked him out, then dragging him off the stage.

"Just keep singing, just keep singing," muttered Meg in her new Quik-Dri! Pants.

Erik and Christine looked at each other awkwardly and then to the befuddled audience.

Christine cleared her throat and said carefully, "I think my dear, that I'm going to rip that odd man's head off."

"Which one?" Erik queried conversationally, twirling his cape around in one gloved hand.

"Heck, I don't know." Christine glared at the audience and suddenly shrieked, "IF ANYONE SO MUCH AS BREATHES TOO LOUDLY BEFORE I FINISH THIS SONG, WHICH IS SUPPOSED TO BE A BEAUTIFUL LOVE SONG WITH FEELING AND PASSION, SO HELP ME I'LL GET A MACHINE GUN AND MURDER YOU ALL!"

No one dared to move an inch.

Christine sucked in a breath, turned back to Erik, and smiled prettily. "Now, where were we?"

But before she could get another word out, a man in a neatly-pressed suit with patent-leather shoes and dark sunglasses stepped out onto the catwalk. "Good evening, Mr. Anderson."

Christine whirled around and punched the man in the face, sending him sprawling back onto the catwalk. "I WARNED YOU!" she screamed furiously.

"Uh, my dear, the song was pretty much finished, anyhoo," Erik told her meekly, rubbing the back of his neck. "All I was gonna say was," and he inhaled deeply, about to sing –

"No no no wait, stop that, stop that!" The sunglasses man shouted, leaping up to his feet. "You're not going into a song while I'm here!"

Erik glared sullenly at him.

Christine's eyes narrowed. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Smith," said Smith. "Or Smithy, if you like."

"I don't," said Christine.

"I'm here for Mr. Anderson, actually," Smith said, fixing his sunglasses calmly. "He's wanted for piracy, corruption, and murder."

Christine looked back at Erik. "Did you do all that?" she asked.

"Er, yes," Erik muttered. "But there isn't the time to talk about it."

"Wait," Christine said. "Your name isn't Anderson."

"Actually… it is," Erik said, abashed. "But again, there isn't the time to talk about it." He suddenly grabbed Christine around the waist just as Raoul pranced back onstage, having narrowly escaped the cruel hands of Erik-Lovers death.

"Love me!" Erik burst into song, "That's all I ask of…"

"CHEESE!" a random person screamed.

The next few minutes were all a bit blurry for Christine. Smithy advanced on Erik, Erik cut the rope to the chandelier with one strong stroke of his pocket-knife, Raoul screamed like a girl in horror as Christine and Erik fell through the floor (but not because of that, but because he discovered that all of his luscious locks of gold had been sheared off by the Erik Lovers and he was now sporting a loverly Mohawk), another person randomly shouted "B'WANA BEAST!", and a Neo look-alike burst into the Opera house and tackled Smithy to the ground, causing both of them to follow Erik and Christine's path down through the floor.

The audience was speechless. They were without speech.

That is, until the chandelier started to fall.

Then they just switched seats and started to watch a rerun of "M.A.S.H." on the drop-down screen provided by Madame Giry.

"We're ruined, Andre!" Firmin shouted as he saw the chandelier fall. "RUINED!"

Andre stared at him. "Um… sure."

Then the fire department came, lugged in a big hose, and sprayed the tiny chandelier until the small lick of flame puffed into a tiny wisp of smoke. The fireman picked up the chandelier and shouted up to the managers, "EVERYTHIN'S UNDER CONTROL, DUDES! D' INFERNO'S PUT OUT!"

"I'm put out," Firmin snapped. "That will cost us beaucoup bucks to replace. Just LOOK at that CHAIR the chandelier fell on!" He pointed to the slightly burned chair. "Do you know how much it COSTS to reupholster furniture these days?" He wheeled on Andre, who was happily sipping wine whilst watching M.A.S.H. and said, "Andre! We must go after him!"

"Who?"

"The Phantom?"

"Who's the Phantom?"

"The Phantom of the bloody Opera!"

"Which one?" Andre asked, his eyes glued to the screen.

"The ONLY one!" Firmin shrieked.

"SHHH!" the audience hissed, glaring up at him.

Firmin glared at Andre. "We must find him and arrest him!"

"Sure."

"We'll call all of the Paris police force!"

"Absolutely."

"I want the TOP agents to search for him, do you HEAR me?"

"Wish I didn't!" an angry audience member snarled up at him.

Andre just popped a grape into his mouth. "Mmm-hmm."

"I want the French Secret Service, I want the army, I want the - "

"You want…" said a finely accented voice from behind Firmin, "A spy."

Firmin and Andre turned to look at the newcomer standing in the shadows of the box. "Who in Pastrami Boy's name are _you?_" Firmin demanded.

The man stepped forth. "The name's Jaund. Jaund S. Eyes."

Andre stealthily moved away from the yellow-eyed man.

"I hear you're lookin' for a Phantom."

"That's right," Firmin said. "If you could help us, Mr. Jaundice…"

Jaund glared at him. "It's Jaund. Jaund _S. _Eyes."

"That's what I said," Firmin said, confused.

But the next minute, poor Jaund was shoved to the side as another man rushed into the box, holding up a gun. "DROP YOUR WEAPON!" he growled.

Firmin and Andre stared at him.

"I SAID DROP IT! THIS IS JACK BAUER FROM CTU!"

"Who?" Andre said blankly.

"WHERE'S THE BOMB?" Jack roared.

"Bomb?" Firmin demanded.

"YEAH. THERE'S ALWAYS A BOMB WHEN I'M AROUND. SO WHERE IS IT?!"

"Jack," another man stepped forward. He also wore sunglasses. But for some reason, they were seemingly stuck to his eyes, which creeped Andre out. "It's not them," he said in a calm voice.

"Oh." Jack put down his gun.

"What's with the sunglasses indoors?" Firmin asked testily, eyeing the man warily. "How can you see?"

The man didn't smile. "You're looking for someone. So am I. My name is Morpheus. And I believe you are looking for the _One._"

"Which one?" Andre asked.

Morpheus held up a picture of the Phantom. "_That _One."

(CUE 24 COUNTDOWN CLOCK)

* * *

(THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN 10 P.M. AND 10:03.00874974 P.M.)

Erik, upset by the arrival of Smithy, dragged Christine down the dark corridor, his hair askew and his mask nowhere to be seen. It had gotten ripped off during the Neo/Smithy/Erik fight just a few minutes before. But Erik had taken care of both of them by hurling them down the Trap Door of Doom ™. From there they would fall into the Well of Pain™, then be sucked into the Vortex of Agony ™, finally ending up in the Torturiest Torture Room of All Torturing Torture Rooms ™ ©.

He had much better things planned for The Fopster ™, however.

But right now, Erik was in Official Hacked-Off Full-Out Rappin' T' Da Max Phantom Mode ™ © (etc.).

"Erik!" Christine gasped. "What are you doing?"

"The Fopster's coming after you!" Erik snarled. "So I'm gonna finally take care of him, yo!"

"Okay," she said. "What are we gonna do?"

"Send him Down once more to de Dungeons of M' Back Despair ™," he half-growled, half sang. "Down he's gonna plunge to da Prison of His Mind ™, yo! Down da Path Inta Darkness Deep as H-E-Double-Toothpick! ™ ©"

Christine followed him down a flight of stairs, shrugging. "Okay. Sounds good. Well, this has been a lousy night, huh? First with the interruptions, then with the Smithy guy, now the Idiot's following us… but hey, we'll get to kill him, so at least _something's _turning out right, huh?" She threw Erik a smile.

"Right," Erik nodded firmly.

No one was going to stand in his way.

Except for the Batman standup/punching bag he'd forgotten to move.

"OOMPH!"

The Tall, Dark, Handsome, Utterly and Just-Too-Sexy-For His Shirt(TM) Erik crumpled to the floor.

* * *

**Told you it was random. Hey, I'm sick. I'm not thinking straight. SO SUE ME! (COUGH HACK HACK COUGH)**

**Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, Readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training.  
**


	23. Project Twenty Three: Schmoopie

**The Parody of the Opera**

**By Serena **

**A/N:** _WARNING! THIS IS THE SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER!!_

_NOOO! We're coming to the end of the tale, sadly. *SOBS* I can't believe it. Well, this is the second to last chapter. Going to wrap up everything then, tie up some loose ends, yadda, yadda, yadda. _

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Project: Schmoopie**

**Disclaimer: Me no own Phantom. DANG IT! Also I don't own Morpheus... oh, yes, and there were a few lines from "The Count of Monte Cristo" in the last chapter, so I don't own those, either. :( Man. Also don't own Seinfeld.  


* * *

**

Christine stared down at him.

"Why, I ask," she sang, "Is Batman down here in this cold and dismal place? Not for any moral sin, but the wickedness of his own very face?"

Erik glowered and rose his feet. "Don't ax me, yo. I didn't put him here. GEEZ! Hounded down by everyone, yo, I'm met wit hatred everywhere, no kind words from anyone, no compassion anywhere – SHEESH! WHY?" He threw up his hands angrily and pulled his cloak around him.

Christine raised an eyebrow and followed him as he stormed down to his LAIR, NOT CELLAR. "Good grief, Erik, take a chill pill," she said, miffed. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I don't got any chill pills," Da Phantom replied testily as he hopped into his gondola. "Only Zantec for my allergies, yo."

Christine stepped into the gondola and frowned. "Since when did you have allergies?"

"Since ya made me BUY THAT DARN CAT!"

"I didn't make you buy a cat. I hate cats. Except big cats. I asked you to buy me a husky."

"Oh. Well, it's all da same, yo." He sniffed. "I think I need a bigger home."

"Can't you just let them wander around here? Both cats and dogs can swim, so…"

"Yeah, but then what about all da traps, yo?"

Christine made a contemplative noise in the back of her throat. "Oh, yeah. Hmmm… I guess we'll just have to move," she said with a shrug.

"Move?" Erik squeaked, nearly dropping the pole. "MOVE?"

"Yep." Christine glanced down beside her in the water, where one of her beloved tigers was happily swimming. "Hey, there, Schmoopie!" she crooned, stroking the cat's head.

Erik groaned. "Not this _again._"

Christine had taken a bad habit of calling everything she loved "Schmoopie." Erik KNEW he shouldn't have let her watch all those Seinfeld reruns.

* * *

Raoul scrambled backstage, crying "CHRISTINE! CHRISTINE!" He literally ran into Meg, and they both tumbled to the floor.

"GET off me!" Meg shrieked, kicking him where it hurt. Raoul doubled over in pain and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. Meg nodded, satisfied, and turned to come face to face with a scary man in sunglasses. "EEP!"

"I'm looking for the _One,_" he said eerily.

"Yeah, join the club," Meg said moodily. "The only decent guy around here has already been taken by Chris. And sorry to tell you, but she's really the only decent girl around here, too. Except for me. But you're not my type."

"Why?" Morpheus snarled. "Are you a racist?"

Meg's eye twitched. "No. A baldist." She glanced at Morpheus' bald head and skipped past him, humming some random tune very off-key.

Raoul groaned and came to. When he opened his eyes, he saw Morpheus standing over him. "AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" He jumped to his feet and starting running around in circles, his hands waving crazily in the air.

Morpheus stared at him and growled, "What's the matter? Are you a racist?"

Raoul stopped, panting, and squeaked, "NO! A baldist!" He clutched his precious blonde locks tightly. "I was warned about you in hairdressing school!"

"You _went _to school?" Morpheus said dryly. "Wow. I'm surprised."

Raoul just shrieked and ran off to find Christine.

Morpheus sighed and shook his head. He turned to see if he could find anyone who'd tell him where the Phantom went, but then… he stopped dead in his tracks. His heart sped up. His eyes widened. His mouth fell open.

There, drifting towards him gracefully, was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Red hair shimmered in the light, perfect red lips snapped at a careless ballet rat, and form-fitting black dress drifted behind her.

"An angel," Morpheus breathed.

Poor Madame Giry had no clue that someone had just fallen completely in love with her. She was too busy yelling at Raoul to never touch her daughter again.

"Where has he taken her, Madame Giry!" Raoul demanded. "I just want to know! I have to save her!"

Mme. Giry glared at him. "What makes you think that she WANTS to be saved?"

"Why wouldn't she?" Raoul gasped. "She's with the Phantom Vampire! She must be under a spell!"

Giry shook her head. "You have one serious narcissistic complex, boy."

"Just tell me where!" Raoul wailed.

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"Nope."

"With sugar on top?"

"I hate sugar."

"With whipped cream and a cherry on top?"

"No way, Jose."

"With everything you could ever want on top?"

"Tempting… but no."

"Money?"

"I don't want your money."

"PLEEEAAAASSEEEEE?"

"You're catching flies. Now shoo."

"NOOOOOO!" Raoul sobbed, and flounced away. Meg, feeling somewhat left out of the whole scenario, decided that she wanted to have a bigger part in the play and danced up to Raoul.

"GOOOOD MORNING, RAOUL!" she sang.

Raoul eyed her oddly. "It's eight at night."

"Oh. Whatever. Hey, listen, you want to find the Phantom?"

"YES!" Raoul exclaimed.

"OK, cool! I mean, I don't know why you'd want to find the Phantom, but I mean Chris is ssoooooo in lurve with him, ya know?" Meg giggled. "I mean obviously they have the hots for each other, and I can TOTALLY see why she digs him, I mean – PHEW!" She fanned herself. "That is one FINE specimen of a Phantom!"

"JUST TELL ME WHERE HE IS!" Raoul gasped, half-crazed.

"Geez, fine, whatever. He's down in the cellar."

Erik then decided to pop up and glared daggers at Meg. "LAIR!" he howled before dropping back down.

Raoul gaped. "It was him!" And he dashed down through the trap door after him. "AAAAAHHHH!" he screamed as he suddenly fell down, down, down, down…

Meg didn't hear Raoul's muffled scream and sighed dreamily. "He spoke to me!" she giggled.

* * *

Christine watched Erik pound down another piece of cake, scowling. "Have you gorged yourself at last in your lust for baklava? Am I now to be prey to your lust for fries?" She glared at his burger and fries and Pepsi.

Erik shrugged. "Hey, yo, take a chill pill. I haven't eaten anythin' in ten days, man."

"Ten days!" Christine gasped. "Why not?"

"Dunno. Didn't feel like it."

Christine shook her head. "Um, ok..."

"Dis fate that condemns me to wallow in baklava has also denied me the joys of the fries, yo!" Erik scowled. "Do ya SEE ME goin' out for fast food?"

"Then where'd you get it?"

"Take-out."

Christine slapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh, boy."

"Hey," Erik protested. "Dis face that earned a mom's fear and loathing - a mask was my first scrap of clothing, yo. Give me a break."

"But didn't you have to pay the take-out person? Wouldn't they have seen your face?"

"No."

"Why not?" Christine demanded.

"The take-out person's always a girl. And all I gotta do is leave the money where she can see it and say 'au revoir.' For some reason, chicks dig the voice. What can I say?" He grinned and leaned back happily in his chair.

Christine glared. "Anything else you want to tell me before you completely poison our love with tales of wooing other women?" she asked shrilly.

Erik realized his mistake and quickly stopped smiling. "Hey, girl, you know you're my babe."

"Call me that again and I'll sick Schmoopie on you."

Erik groaned and buried his face in his hands. But then, someone rang on the doorbell. But wait, Erik didn't HAVE a doorbell. So who was ringing it, and more importantly, HOW were they ringing it? Determined to find out who was responsible, Erik jumped to his feet and hurried out into the main lagoon room. It was Raoul. And for some odd reason, he had a cowbell around his neck. He was drenched, shivering, and very skinny. However, Erik and Christine were both very unnerved to see that Raoul's hair was STILL PERFECT.

That was disturbing.

"Free her!" Raoul belted out, as if he'd rehearsed this for a long time (actually, he had, over a dozen times already). "Do what you like, only FREE her!"

Erik grinned. "Fine, yo. I'll do what I like." And he suddenly grabbed Christine and kissed the dickens out of her.

"HEY!" Raoul screamed. "I said FREE HER!"

Erik pulled away. "You said I can do what I like, dude. So I'm doin' just dat." And he pulled Christine in for another passionate smooch.

"But-but-but-but... that's not how it's supposed to be!" Raoul wailed, trying to pull on the iron gate.

"Frankly, my dear," said Christine calmly, "I don't give a da-"

Erik then decided to drop the curtain over the gate, thus blocking Raoul's vision. Then, he continued to kiss Christine.

Step One: Lock out De Fopster.

Step Two: Block out De Fopster.

Step Three: Totally smooch your girl.

Yes, for the Phantom of the Opera, life was good.

* * *

**I'd say "Poor Raoul!" But honestly, I don't give a darn. HEE HEE. So yes, next chapter, we're ending things. NO NO NO! Oh, well. Everything must come to an end, eventually. Maybe a sequel? Parody of Manhattan? ;D I don't know. It's up to you. **

**IF YOU WOULD LIKE A SEQUEL LET ME KNOW!! **

**Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, Readers, your obedient servant, OG In Training.  
**


	24. Project TwentyFour: The Hairless Horror

**The Parody of the Opera**

**By Serena **

**A/N:** _WARNING! THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER!!!!  
_

_NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! We're FINISHED! FINITO! DONE! ENDED! OVER AND DONE WITH!!! AAACKKK!!! *runs around screaming and sobbing* I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!_

_Everyone else: Believe it._

_NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!_

_Seriously, I'd like to thank everyone for sticking with this story for so long. This last chapter is dedicated to all of you. LOVE YOU!!! I wouldn't have got this far without you guys. _

_**SEQUEL UPDATE**: I still need more feedback from you guys if I'm going to write up a sequel, so PLEASE LET ME KNOW.  
_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Project: The Hairless Horror  
**

**Disclaimer: Me no own Phantom. DANG IT! Also I don't own Morpheus...  


* * *

**

Amidst all the chaos, Mme Giry was unable to stop the masses from journeying down to Erik's cellar – er, lair. But when she heard roars, trumpets, and screams, she shrugged. Christine really did have everything under control. Those animals were good for something.

She turned to find Meg but halted as she stared up into a pair of strange sunglasses. The fact that it was nighttime only made her more puzzled. "Is there something I can do for you?" she asked shrilly.

He nodded. "I am Morpheus. I request your hand in courtship."

"I wouldn't give you my foot," Giry snapped back, and whipped out her Nextel walkie talkie. "Giry to OG, OG, do you read me?"

After a moment of static, she heard a click, and then a moan. "OG?"

A throat cleared on the other line. "Ahem, I, uh, yes, Giry, this is OG, I read you."

Giry glared at the walkie talkie. "The entire mob's coming after you and you're making out with Subject: Singing Angel? Erik, what the bloody devil is WRONG with you?"

"Hey," said Morpheus, stepping closer, "if it's making out you want, then I'd be happy to volunteer…"

Giry shoved him back. "Get away from me!"

He scowled. "What, are you a racist?"

"No," she hissed. "A sunglasses-in-the-nightist."

He frowned in confusion and touched his sunglasses. "Hey…"

"Giry to OG," Giry said, ignoring him, "you have to get out of there before it's too late. And by the way, have you seen Subject: The Fopster?"

"Er… no?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Why does that sound more like a question than an answer, Erik?"

"Um, because it is?"

There was another voice on the other end, and Giry and Morpheus heard Christine say: "Give it to me."

"No," Erik objected.

"Erik, give me the walkie talkie."

"It's mine!" he whined.

They heard the two wrestling over the machine and Christine screeching, "GIVE ME THE DANG WALKIE TALKIE!"

"NYAH!" Erik cried in protest.

Then, there was silence.

"Hey!" they heard Erik protest. "You can't just kiss me and take it away from me, man! Dat ain't fair, yo!"

"Too bad," said Christine crossly, "I just did."

"YOU GIVE ME BACK MY TALKIE, WOMAN!" Erik hollered.

"Ain't happenin', yo," Christine retorted. Into the walkie talkie she said, "Singing Angel to Giry."

"Christine, tell Erik to grow up," Giry snapped. "And also that you two need to get out of there."

"Got it. Erik, grow up," Christine ordered. "And we need to high-tail it out of here. Is all our stuff in the Hummer?"

"Yeah, but - "

"Is your organ safely in the van?"

"Yeah, but - "

"How'd you pack up that whole dang organ, anyway? It's huge! Is it portable?"

"Yeah, but - "

"Then we're good to go. The animals will hop in the truck when they're done taking care of the mob people. We're good to go, Giry!" Christine said cheerfully.

"Good," Giry said. "What about Raoul?"

"What about him?"

"Is he down there?"

"Maybe."

Giry sighed. "Did he try to rescue you, Christine?"

"Maybe."

"Did you knock him out, Christine?"

"Maybe."

Giry's eyes narrowed again. "Christine… you didn't shave his head, did you?"

"… Maybe."

Giry nodded. "That's all I needed to know. Have fun, you two! Write me, text me, email me, IM me, whatever."

"Got it! Toodle-oo, and mwah!" Christine kissed the walkie talkie.

Mme Giry sighed and shut off the walkie talkie. She looked up at Morpheus, who stood there silently like an idiot, and snapped, "Why are you still here?"

"I want to go out with you."

"Forget it," she said.

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because of those." She pointed at his sunglasses.

Morpheus swallowed, slowly reached up to his face, his hand trembling, and pulled the sunglasses off his face. When he opened his eyes, Giry gasped.

"You have… beautiful eyes," she said, blushing.

"Thanks," he said with a grin. "I grew 'em myself."

She raised an eyebrow.

"So," he said, "Now will you go out with me?"

"Depends. Where we going?"

"Finest restaurant in Paris. I'll buy."

Giry may have been the scariest woman in the entire world, but even she was not one to pass up a free dinner. She smiled and took his arm.

"Morphie, I think this is going to the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

* * *

Meg, in the meantime, sloshed into the Phantom's lair. To her astonishment, everything was gone. The entire place had been cleared out. Well, except for the huge, glaring sign painted in bloodred on the wall that said:

"YOU JUST MISSED US! HAHAHAHAHA! YOU LOSE, SUCKERS!"  
SIGNED: OG AND SINGING ANGEL

Meg touched the paint. It was still wet. She grinned and went into the other room, where there was nothing but a white mask and a man with a bald head lying on the floor. She gasped and went over to him cautiously. She prodded him, and his eyes flew open.

Meg screamed and jumped back.

The man jumped to his feet, groaning, and said, "Where's Christine? Where is she?" He grabbed her shoulders and shook her crazily.

Meg scowled and pushed him away. "I don't man, geez louize!"

"He took her!" the man screamed. "The PHANTOM VAMPIRE TOOK HER!"

Meg's eyes narrowed. She'd heard only one other person call the Phantom that… She suddenly gasped and stared at him. "Foppy?"

Raoul blinked. "Yes?"

"Oh my gosh… you're Raoul?" Meg started to snicker.

"What's so funny?" he demanded. "WHAT IS SO FUNNY? TELL ME!"

Meg couldn't stop laughing. She nearly fell over but managed to point to a mirror hanging on the wall. Raoul rushed over, did a double take, gasped, and suddenly let out the worst, highest-pitched, most piercing scream ever heard by anyone before.

"NNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The mirror shattered.

Meg left the room, laughing and holding her ears. "Man, that's some hairless horror," she chuckled, and realized she'd taken the Phantom's mask with her.

"Hmm. Wonder why he doesn't need the mask…" She shrugged, grinning. "I still thought he was totally hot with it, anyway…" And she skipped off, singing, "Just keep singing, just keep singing, just keep singing, singing, singing, what do we do, we sing, sing, sing!! OH HO HO HO I LOVE TO SIIIINNNNNGGGG!"

* * *

Already on a boat leaving France, Erik touched newly reconstructed face.

"Well?" said Christine. "What do you think? We went to best surgeon in the country."

"I feel like a Gerard Butler look-alike," Erik grumbled as another lady eyed him.

"I know," Christine said with a grin, pulling him closer. "But you have to admit, it's a lot easier to smooch without the mask."

He grinned and kissed her. Pulling back, he added, "But you know, I wish I could've kept the mask. For sentimental reasons."

Christine pulled a spare out of her bag. "I did. Just in case we need it… you know, for scaring purposes."

"You're the best, yo!" Erik grinned, pulling her close again.

After they kissed for a lot longer, Christine pulled back and faced the water.

"In a way, I'll miss it all," she said wistfully as she watched the shores of France disappear. "It was so fun… tormenting Cart… tormenting Senor Care Bear… tormenting the stupid ballet rats…"

"You'll miss the Fopster?" Erik said suspiciously.

"I'll miss tormenting him."

"Oh. Me too."

"We should really write him a goodbye-note."

"Hmm. Filled with itching powder?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of a snake popping out at him. Or one of him with a picture of his bald head."

"Oh, you're good."

"I know, dear. I learned from the best." Christine smiled and patted his cheek.

Erik sighed and flexed his fingers. "Well, I suppose we'll just have to find another Opera House to torment."

"Indeed. I hear New York City's got a lovely opera."

"Isn't that where we're headed?" Erik asked.

She shot him a grin. "Coincidentally."

He grinned back. "I like the way you think, my dear."

"So do I." She rubbed her hands together and stared out at the ocean. "It'll be a big change, though."

"Indeed."

"We'll have to make sure they know who's boss."

"Exactly."

"You'll have to find a new… ahem… cellar – I mean lair."

"Yes." He shot her a dark glare. "Lair. Domain."

"Well," said Christine, "We'll always have Paris."

"Mmm-hmm," replied Erik. "And my lair…" He shot a glare to Christine, and she held up her hands in defeat.

"Fine, fine! LAIR, NOT CELLAR!"

He leaned back, quite pleased with himself. "Exactly. And at least we won't have to worry about those blasted doorst - " But as he was walking, he suddenly tripped over a familiar object lying jammed in a doorway and fell ungracefully on his stomach. He leaped to his feet and screamed, "BLOODY DOORSTOPS! BLAST IT ALL TO - "

THE END

* * *

**So, that's IT!! WE'RE OVER! THE CURTAIN IS CLOSING!!! WAAAAAHHH!!! **

**Wow, this is a historic moment. I can't believe I'm done with this story.  
**

**IF YOU WOULD LIKE A SEQUEL LET ME KNOW!! **

**Dear Readers, I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to review. If you do not, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur! I remain, Readers, your obedient servant, OG Graduate. I've graduated from the OG Academy!! Cheers to me. I'm an OG In Training no more! :)  
**


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